


For the Beaufort Sea

by Cicadaemon



Series: For the Beaufort Sea [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Dan Simmons is a bitch and can choke challenge, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harry D S Goodsir deserves better but first we have to drag him through hell, Historical Accuracy, Minor Violence, Multi, Mutilation, Non-Graphic Violence, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The porn is on Chapter 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-06-21 06:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15551958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicadaemon/pseuds/Cicadaemon
Summary: With the threat of mutiny, a slow death by whatever has poisoned their food source, and Lady Silence being turned away, Harry D.S. Goodsir decides enough is enough. His own threat of mutiny, an attack by a demonic polar bear and a need to stay by Silence's side leads him down King William to a vague hope that help might be waiting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **19/11/2018** : PLEASE READ. I messed up when it came to timeline stuff and killed of Fitzjames and Blanky before I was suppose to so chapter 9 has been completely deleted. Don't know if I'm going to reupload it at all since it no longer fits. Just letting you know so there's no confusion :)
> 
> This has to be the biggest writing project I've taken on in forever. It would be an understatement to say I did some research, I think I know waaaaaay too much about Harry now. I hope you guys enjoy it! The rating will definitely change in later chapters, but for now I say proceed with caution. There are spoilers!
> 
> I'm not using a beta and I do have some issues when it comes to reading comprehension so if there are any mistakes, please let me know! It'd actually be appreciated!!!

By the time they had set up camp, Harry Goodsir could not say when was the last time he had felt so utterly drained.

Lady Silence had lived up to her name during the long walk, never once breaking her stoic façade as they marched on with the sled. She barely had a reaction when Harry’s knees had buckled after stepping wrong on the loose stones that made up King William’s Land and he jerked the sled forward. Though this neutral to almost emotionless mask she wore was normal around the other men, she had always let it slide around him. A soft smile, or a quick look in her eyes reminded Harry that she was still the same woman who he had spent hours teaching and learning from. Her demeanour had changed drastically since they visited the murder of the Netsilik hunters and even more when he had told her about the Tuunbaq attack.

The former had been the catalyst for this whole trip. To be quick to introduce himself, Henry Duncan Spens Goodsir was a man who always seemed to have words to speak and proper reactions to give, this he was well practised in so he would fit in seamlessly. Until earlier that day. He had resorted back to his awkward self, unsure of what do to.

The scene they had come across was a horror. He was not afraid of the dead, he cut up enough cadavers to be unmoved by the sight of one, but seeing such lives taken senselessly made his stomach drop in a way almost indescribable.  Five Netsilik, one which was a child barely grown. He had watched Lady Silence drop to her knees and he had been overcome with the want to hug her, to give her words of sympathy, but he remained where he stood. He didn’t pay attention the movements of Captain Crozier. He kept a steady eye on Silence and founded himself feeling her own shock and sadness.

He had become overly aware how their presence in the Arctic had ruined her life. How it affects the lives of the other natives. Despite the good he wanted to believe belonged in men, he wasn’t Rosseau. He knew that not all men would look at Silence’s foreign face and see a fellow human. He was Scottish, and while his faked accent rarely ever gave away his nationality he could see how the Englishmen treated him when they learned he wasn’t really with them. If he was aware of the difference in his own status, Silence, who seemed so aware of everything, had to be aware of her own? He could see her hating these men for coming into her home, treated her as a subhuman, killing her father (he had been a part of that group that killed him. Did Silence hate him?) and these people he knew meant something to her.

As she looked around at the bodies with a manner that reminded him of a lost child, immense guilt overtook him, before he was snapped out of his thoughts by a voice.

“The Esquimaux ran off in what direction, Mr. Hickey?” Despite the wind, Thomas Blanky’s words sounded clear. Mr. Blanky, despite his obvious impairment (Harry still wished he had seen the leg amputation for the sole reason that the man had handled it like a beast) still was a force to be reckoned and even now he held a sort of command that made him stand taller then the rest. If Cornelius Hickey really did kill these men like the Captain and officers thought, then the Caulker's Mate would find no mercy from these men. There was no sympathy or mercy here now. Harry didn’t turn his head to see where Hickey pointed, and he didn’t try to eavesdrop when Francis Crozier called to Mr. Blanky. The men made their way to the sled, Crozier and Hickey made their way to where Lieutenant John Irving had perished, and Harry finally found himself walking to where Silence knelt.

“ _Are they family_ ,” he asked in her language when he was finally beside her. The words were not comfortable on his tongue, but he couldn't ask her in his own language. He owed her that respect. She didn’t look to him, but now that he was close he could see the tears gathering on her chin. Never had he seen her cry to the point of tears before, not even when he father had died. Then had been terrible sobs and begging. This somehow seemed worse. “ _Friends?_ ”

She nodded slightly at this, sniffling, and seeming to lose the composure she had. Her body began to shake.  She got up from where she knelt to walk over to the centre of the murders (though Lieutenant Hodgson had said they were Irving and Farr’s killers, he had a hard time seeing these deaths as a just act) and watched her kneel again, beside the body of the small child. She fixed the way the leg had bent back and began to cry. It was here that Harry felt himself tear up. He stayed put though, not knowing if he could or should comfort her.

When they finally made their way back to the camp, he hadn’t tried to make any comments to Silence, but rather keep as close to her as he could. So often her sniffling who lead to a little sob, which Harry would then bump his shoulder against hers leading her to look at him, as if to say its's okay I'm here. Eventually the tears dried up and her little sniffles had all but vanished and she became the composed and stoic Lady Silence again. While he was glad her tears had stopped, he hated this mask more. He made no comment. When finally they stood outside the camp, the fog had set in to the point of little visibility. Crozier had them halt, before a shrill whistle was blown to signal that it was the party returning.

He hadn’t expected a bullet as a reply.

They all recoiled to this, crouching down as quickly as their legs could allow them to in order to avoid other shots. Crozier yelled out, brogue becoming thick, “Damn your eyes! It’s your captain.”

Harry looked to Silence who seemed undisturbed by this and then out to the fog. “Avast that now,” Crozier yelled out again. They stood up again when a man cried out.

“Get yourself fed men,” Crozier said to them, not looking to them, but through the fog, “Those were some hard miles. Hartnell,” He handed one of the fur bag to Thomas Hartnell. The bags were filled with seal meat which Harry knew was evidence of a lie on Hickey's part. “Take that to the command tent.”

He walked forward with the rest of them, haltering a little when he saw the figure of James Fitzjames come out of the fog. The Commander seemed to walk towards him. When Fitzjames was close enough he said softly “Goodsir,” and Harry knew he had to stay back and walked to where Blanky, Crozier and Fitzjames now met. Lady Silence had not moved from where she had previously knelt. It was as though she was unsure if she even wanted to entire the camp again. Leaving it hadn't been easy for her, with the glares she had gotten from the men.

“The armoury has been opened up,” Fitzjames reported in the same soft tone. Something in his stomach dropped at that. Men on edge with guns was a disaster waiting to happen.

“No, James. How?” Crozier replied.

“Lieutenant Little gave the order. The men believe we are under attack.”

“We are.” Blanky cut in, not keeping care to keep his voice hushed. “Of the most cowardly kind.

Fitzjames made no motion to show he had really acknowledged this jab and continued. “I stepped in, but 20 arms had already been issued.”

A stunned silence that lasted a beat, Harry looked to Silence again, who’s faced had hardened as though she could understand them. He wouldn’t be shocked if she did considering her English had been so good, but these were words he never taught her. The tone to which James spoke gave away the urgency of it all though.

“If she enters that camp again, Francis…” Fitzjames looked to her and her expression went harder. He looked quickly away back to Crozier, “We have to get this matchstick away from the tinderbox.”

Harry hadn’t really taken notice of it before, but now he could see what Fitzjames carried. Silence’s bag that carried all her belongings. “But,” Harry spoke up, his voice strangely not betraying the panic that was now setting in. “Mr. Hickey’s gone in already. He’ll tell them we’re back.”

“I’ll go on ahead and misdirect them, then.” Blanky assured. He looked to Thomas Jopson and said “Lieutenant,” before hobbling over to the camp. Jopson followed.

Harry looked to the camp, the panic hitting his heart. He could hear Fitzjames say something to Silence, but his ears could only hear something akin to the ocean. Something in Harry told him that if she left now, he would never see her again and it made his body shake in ways it had never done before nor could he blame on sickness he could feel seeping into his bones. He turned around in time to see Crozier hand the skin bag to Silence and talk to her.

“ _Go to your people now_.” Those words so simple, made the panic become a reality. With it, his thoughts became slightly erratic till something dawned on him. Something he needed to speak to Crozier about. “ _Be safe_.”

She nodded, and Crozier turned from her. As the Captain walked past, Harry made a quick glance to Crozier, as if to say we need to talk. Or at least he had hoped the glance came off that way. It appeared so as the Captain’s face scrunched at the look and gave a quick nod.

Harry looked back to Silence, who for the first time in a long time smiled at him. A quick, sad smile that made his heart rush before turning away. It took him a moment to realize there’d be no proper, heartfelt farewells and he jogged forward.

“Wait, wait!” He called out in English, making her stop. When he caught up to her and she looked at him again he was at a loss of words. He took a moment to try and say what he wanted before caving to something else. “Yes, go. Be safe,” he said again in English. She nodded and turned away before courage rose up in him to say what he wanted. He walked forward to her and spoke up, “Stay with us.”

Stay with me was the words he wanted, but they seemed so forward. She stopped and turned to him again, a look in her eyes showed she understood these words. Harry felt the panic settle back into him. “I’ll… I’ll talk to the men and… and make it safe for you.”

Lies and the words he didn’t want to say. “We owe you that.” That was more than true, but not what he wanted to say. He forced the words he wanted out of his mouth. “I… I do.”

Her expression went soft for half a second, and Harry found himself speaking without thinking. “I… I wish you could come to England and see for yourself.” He had dreamt often of going home throughout the expedition, not to England or Edinburgh, but to his childhood home of Anstruther-Easter. In the recent weeks, when he dreamt of it, she was by his side, in the garden Jane kept. “It’s not like we are here. People there are good.”

A lie, but this was one he told himself too so why it mattered?  His words halted when he could feel her gloved hand pat over his left breast. He looked down and then to her, her face so close to his he could see the tiniest freckles on her nose, how dark and rich her eyes were. How often was he awestruck by how beautiful she was? He could barely understand it and it made his heart swell. Her expression was still as emotionless as ever, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. That she was upset by this parting too. This made the words come easy once again.

“ _I come with you,_ ” He spoke in haltering Inuktitut. “ _Let me follow you_.”

-

And so, he had. They were far from the Terror Camp now, about a day’s travel with wobbly legs and painful feeling in his stomach. And he had left without mutiny.

Her expression back then went to a look of puzzlement as he told her to go back to where the Netsilik laid dead, to take their sled filled with furs and equipment that the Crozier had deemed unnecessary weight. To wait for him there when he’d return in the evening. He hadn’t planned for the Tuunbaq to attack camp, but when it did Harry had already been prepared. A bag packed with what small food her could take, snow googles, a blanket his mother had made him years ago and his two notebooks which held a map between the cover of the one that acted as his journal. It was all he could afford to take.

After watching Silence walk away back to the dead Netsilik, he walked back into the camp with a new air of determination. Harry had been more than willing to cut up Irving when asked to. With the determination, something close to bitterness had set into him. These men had driven away Silence by their paranoia and ignorance and what had been always rare for him, he felt contempt. All the while he cut open the Lieutenant and confirmed that this death was not what Hickey said it was, Harry devised his plan proper. The orders for the arrest of Sergeant Solomon Tozer and Hickey were given, and when the men had all left the tent to give Harry to chance to sew up the body closed, only Crozier remained.

“You have something to say to me I suppose,” it made the bitterness in him lessen knowing that Crozier had gotten his very subtle message. “Something important?”

“Captain,” Harry spoke softly, not looking to him but to the final stitches in the body before him. “Let me go with Silence to find more Netsilik.”

Harry looked up from the body to Crozier, making care so that his face would not betray the anxiety he felt inside. “There’s barely any men here that can speak the language, but I can. If I can find people and bring them back to the camp it may be what saves us-“

“Absolutely not, Dr. Goodsir.” Crozier’s face went red. “We need you here-“

“You have Bridgens who had proven to be as capable as me. I’m an anatomist and naturalist I was not made to be a physician. I am doing the barest that Stanley or Peddie could have done as I have not the skills or the resources. The best I can do is just trying to relieve these men of pains. Bridgens knows as much as I in such case and besides I haven’t the supplies to properly work as a doctor-“

“What message will it send-“ Harry felt his blood boil at these words and found himself losing composure.

“I don’t care what these men think!” His voice raised, and Crozier’s expression turned to shock. “Why should I care. You and Mr. Blanky are all we have in way of a translator. Mr. Blanky can barely walk as it is and an even worse message with be sent if the Captain abandons his camp and crew!”

He brought his hand down on the table hard and spoke on. “I have confirmed Hickey is a rat who lies and kills as easily as he breaths. I have done the duty you ask of me and now let me do this. You worry about a mutiny, but you’ll have another on your hands from me if you don’t let me go. I’ll stay to confirm what I found to the men and then I will be off with or without your permission.”

Harry, once when he was young had spoken back to his father and gotten a good whack on his head that made him fear the man for nearly a week. This was ten times worse. He had threatened mutiny and spoken back to a man who could have him lashed or hung. That bitterness and anger sudden was gone and Harry returned to his senses proper. He opened his mouth to apologize but was stopped by a short laugh from Crozier.

“Do you even know where Silence went? How can you go with her if you don’t know where she is?”

Harry smiled sheepishly at this. “I spoke to her briefly as she left. I told her to wait where the bodies are and get the sled. That I would meet with her again and I would follow her. She had agreed to all of this. She's expecting me.”

Crozier shook his head with the softest smile on his face, “Never knew you had this in you Dr.Goodsir.”

“Nor I. Captain... I want to go home. I want us all to go home.”

Harry looked down to the floor, suddenly aware of what he was doing. This awareness didn’t mean he was going to not go through, but rather understand the importance. Going with Silence was born from selfishness that gave way to understanding that it could be their salvation. As much as he hated these men now, he wanted nothing more than to save them. It is, after all a doctor's duty to preserve life. This came naturally.

“Pack your things Goodsir. I’ll cover for you until tomorrow. Keep your tools and other things here and I will make sure no man bothers them. Come back with help, and that’s an order.”

Harry only looked up when Crozier had made his way to him, clasping a hand onto his left shoulder. It was the first time Harry had realized this, but the Captain looked so worn thin. “Will do Captain. Thank you.”

-

The tent they now pitched up was different from the canvas tents the crew had, but it seemed more simple. He copied what Silence did and made no conversation with her. Something awkward was between them though he couldn’t place a name to what it was. Within a half hour the tent was up, covered in furs and finally Silence tried to communicate. She had tapped Harry on the shoulder as he put down fur on the tent floor and made a motion to show hunting. She waited for no approval before heading off with the weapon they had taken from the bodies. So, Harry finished his work and put down the blankets they’d sleep with.

He took a lamp from the sled and brought into the tent, along with his journal that he had been keeping for about 3 years at this point. A collection of thought and worries written into these pages that he hadn’t allowed any man to see. He had flipped to the first page when he had been seated with the light on to see neat handwriting with ink that was slightly faded.

_11 April, 1845-_

_In a letter to my brother today-_

Harry flipped away from this, not wanting to see to he wrote next knowing it would fill him with homesickness. He remembered that letter to John, telling him that there was hope they'd be home before the next Christmas or what have you. What a lie, and it made his stomach twist thinking he may never have a Christmas at home again. These were thoughts he need to avoid. Instead he looked at the doodles he had made in the margins (so many crabs and molluscs  or the short passages he had written. He gazed fondly on the one sketch he had done when he was first beginning his lessons with Silence that was a study of the woman. He wasn’t the best artist when it came to humans, but he had captured her likeness quite well. He'd have to thank Edward Forbes when he got back home for his quick lessons on portraiture.

He continued to flip forward till he got to his last entry and blank pages. He took a pencil from his pocket and begun to write.

-

When the Tuunbaq attacked, Crozier had only the briefest moment to yell at him to go. So, Harry ran to his tent and grabbed the bag he had packed and ran from the camp as fast as he could.

It reminded him so oddly of home, the fog. Rosebank hadn’t been too far from the waterfront. Looking from his bedroom window he could see the wide expanse of waters blocked only slightly by buildings. Just a five-minute walk down Chalmers Brae and Haddfoot Wynd and he would be at the harbour with the line of shops that had blocked the view from his room. If he felt adventurous he’d run from the backyard and make his way to the Esplandes or to Billow Ness beach where he would swim or collect the little sea creatures he could. Being so close to the water meant that fog would roll in from time to time making it hard to even see your hand outstretched.

When he ran, he ignored the growls and the screams, but tried to imagine that this was Anstruther-Easter. That he was young and full of excitement which was making him hear things that were not real. He almost fooled himself with this trick, but the fear kept him grounded. At one point a loud growl that felt as though it was right behind him made him trip over his feet and go tumbling down a short hill. The pain on his face and the small amount of blood that blinded his right eye were ignored. He kept moving. He barely knew where he was going once the landmarks of the camp were gone, but the fog cleared out the farther he got, and it was a miracle that he had been on the right path as he recognized the hills and knew he was close to the valley.

He allowed himself a moment to clean the cut on his brow with his sleeve and spit before moving forward. Another 10 minutes of walking and he came across the telltale signs he was in the right place, specifically the blood-stained rocks where Farr and Irving had laid upon. Silence was not down where the bodies had been, but up on the hill sitting in the direction away from the scene. He had called out to her and she had quickly stood up to wave. With her was the larger of the sleighs with furs and other supplies packed onto it. It looked to be easily pulled by one person, but Harry knew Silence would never let him do it on his own and nor would he let her do it herself. The rope was big enough they both could pull together.

She had smiled when he came to her and that smile had faded when he explained in choppy words that the Tuunbaq had attack. She had ignored him then, took the rope, and walked away, south more specifically. Harry had to jog to catch to her and take the rope in his hands as well.

-

Harry’s hand was cramping by the time Silence had come back. He had written everything about the Netsilik, the attack and the day journey as he could, but as his eyes began to burn with lack of sleep he found the words hard to write down. Not only that, but the pain in his stomach kept him distracted. Hunger seemed the likely culprit and he had only been allowed to bring biscuits with him though it was not much. Though at times the pain felt different from one caused by hunger. He didn’t dwell on this too much. Most of the men had been falling ill, and Harry couldn't expect him to be exempt. He could feel the telltale signs of sickness in him, and the tooth John had so graciously fixed was beginning to slightly ache again with infection.

Silence had nearly made him jump when she stuck her head into the tent. She made no attempt to show she had noticed this and motioned for him to go outside. His joints cracked when he got up which made him winch with the slight pain he felt. Outside the air had cooled drastically and Harry saw what she had to show. Scrub bush that could work to cook the Gyrfalcon she had taken down. He couldn’t help, but grin like a fool at that.

“You’re absolutely amazing,” He found himself saying, which led to the first reaction he gotten out of her. A small smile and a hint of blush. This made him happier than the bird. “Let me start a fire then.”

She had gotten to work on defeathering the bird and preparing it to cook almost as long as it took Harry to get the flame to go. In his defence it was windy, and he lacked proper materials. The bird barely cooked, but he had gotten use to eating meat basically dangerously close to raw since they left the Erebus and Terror with the little game they caught. It was cooked enough though that it barely appeared pink.

Once the bird had been eaten (and Silence had sucked away at whatever marrow she could get) she had quickly cleaned her with a handkerchief Harry handed her and headed into the tent. He wasn’t an idiot and could see this behaviour as something odd. He took a moment to kill the small fire before heading into the tent.

“Are you angry with me,” He asked bluntly. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

Though it was dark in the tent to the point he could barely see her, he could make out that Silence had been in the middle of taking of her fur coat. She took a moment to get it over her head before shaking her head. She didn’t look at him when she did this which rose to more frustration in him.

“Then why are you like this with me?” As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see how she looked at him with a look of confusion. He sighed before repeating the words in a poorly translated Inuktitut. She shrugged nonchalantly.

“ _Are you upset I came with you or about the Tuunbaq_ ,” He asked again in the language. She shook her head again. He let out a groan. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the stress that had been layered onto him or maybe it was the fact that the one person who tolerated him now was being so dismissive, but Harry felt overwhelmed.

Before he could say anything, Silence mimicked tears with her fingers and pointed to her chest. Harry barely understood this, and Silence repeated this several times before it clicked.

“Your people,” He spoke the words softly and Silence nodded. He should have understood this, because of them these people she knew were dead. Their existence, his existence, a reminder what they were taking from her. He felt shame pool in his gut. Of course, he had thought this to be a slight against him; so selfish. He cursed his inability to read people.

“I’m sorry,” He said in English then repeated in Inuktitut. “Do you need to be alone?”

Again, she shook her head and continued to undress. Sudden horror washed over him when he realised that Silence was about to take off the caribou skin parka she wore under the fur. “Keep it on,” his words came out strained. “It is too cold at night.”

She looked at him with a confused look then something dawned on her before she smiled. She pointed to the fur and blankets they had been placed down earlier and made a motion to mimic sleep. Harry couldn’t help but smile in amusement to this. Communication since she removed her tongue had been through subtle gestures with her hands or head. This was new and much appreciated. She didn’t seem to enjoy the smile and instead she shook her head almost exasperatedly. She mimicked rubbing her eyes and pointed to him as if to say you are tired.

“I’m going to sleep,” He made emphasis on this by getting down onto the bedding he had been writing on before and taking of his boots. “Don’t worry.”

She didn’t have a reaction for that and instead quickly got under the blanket, putting the fur coat under her head like a pillow. When he had finally made it under the cover she sat up to grab her fur pants and threw them at him, almost hitting him in the face. He laughed at that and had gotten a delighted huff from Silence.

Once settled, there was nothing said between them. Despite feeling so worn, so exhausted he found it difficult to close his eyes and sleep. The pain from the cut was a dull throb now so he couldn’t blame this difficulty on that. The only sounds he could hear was from the wind outside and Silence’s steady breath (they weren’t deep, so it was likely she was still awake too). After spending 3 years so close to so many people, hearing every human sound possible, this silence was deafening and welcomed. He didn’t keep the quiet for long.

“I know you can’t answer back so don’t worry.” He said in English first before switching to Inuktitut. “Pittauřuq hiniktuq.”

He was sure that the words were wrong. He wanted to say sleep well, but he didn’t know the words proper. He held his breath for a second, hoping she’d get what he wanted to say and in that moment she did something she hadn’t done before. A soft hum. They laid close together, close enough he could almost feel that hum against his skin and before he had time to react he felt her hand touch his shoulder gentle as almost to say, ‘you too’.

It was then that his exhaustion over took him and he could keep his eyes open no longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am here for you.”  
> She looked up then, tears forming in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have hover notes enabled for the Inuktitut words that don't get repeated in English. If there's no translation just hover over the word and the translation (as Harry means them) will pop up. Literal translations are in the end notes.
> 
> Update: Did some more edits as I realised I misspelled a fair bit. If you see any mistakes let me know, I don't have a beta and I have learning disability that makes wrting/reading very hard. I am bound to miss stuff.

Harry woke up to the sound of soft sniffles.

Besides the noises, he was completely thrown off by where he was. There wasn't the familiar sounds of men at work and the tent that was over his head wasn't right. Panic pressed into him till he realized that he was not in the camp, but out in the savage wide of King Williams Land with Silence. As he woke more he remembered what they had talked about before they had slept. There was also how she had wept yesterday (it felt like a thousand years away now) and the realization that those sniffles were Silence trying to covertly cry struck him in the heart.

Would it be better to ignore them? His body moved before he could come to a decision. He moved the fur blanket that covered him and with awkward manoeuvring he was able to get the bed closer to her. Her back was to him, so he could not see her face, but he could hear her breathing change. He was close to her before, but now he could easily put his arms around her and hug her. This he did not attempt. Instead he copied her movements from that night when Morfin had been killed. He had been in worse shape then her then, panic had made him sob uncontrollably and it wasn't until she had entered his tent and touched him did his breathing slowed. If it had worked for him then, it could work for her now. He gently placed one hand on her shoulder and he could feel and hear how her breathing steadied.

Exhaustion took him again.

-

_The water was warmer than usual. The country side had been experiencing a slight heatwave, enough to the point that it was almost unbearable to go outside. The house was no shelter though, the upper stairs area heated up even with the windows open. When the sun became too much, and he had to go back inside, he found himself hiding in the crawlspace in his bedroom. It was slightly cooler for some reason and he would pass the time away by either reading or adding to the vandalism he had already cause (much to his mother’s dismay).  Today, however, was cool enough he could enjoy the beach and not feel like he’d drop dead from the heat._

_He could hear the sailors in the distance at the harbour, either bringing in their catch or readying to head out into Linne Foirthe, Firth of Forth. The boy paid no mind and instead focused on how cool the water felt and how warm the sun’s ray were. He was barely knees deep in the water though he could go deeper if he wanted. He knew how to swim. His mother made sure of that._

_The sounds of the sailors soon turned something agitated, before screams erupted out that was something familiar to him. He opened his eyes and turned towards the harbour, only it wasn’t the harbour, but a white cliff. The person that was behind him was snatched though the tent and ripped upwards while his dying screams echoed in Harry’s ears._

_He took a step backwards only to be hit by a canvas wall and the white turned smoky and his breath grew short. The person leaning on him was bloodied. The screams of the dying and terrified were all around him. The fire made his whole world turn red. He squeezed his eyes shut ready for the inevitable._

-

Harry was the first to wake proper, a cold sweat covering him. Silence had during the night turned in her sleep and somehow nestled herself into his neck. Had he not been so physically exhausted he would have pushed away or given some other reaction, but he instead blinked sluggishly and pulled himself away from her softy; trying not to wake her. He dressed into his coat and shoved on his boots quickly before stepping out of the tent. The cold air bit at his skin and made the cut on his face burn. A cool wind hit him. He crossed his arms to try and combat the chill. He took a few moments to breath in and enjoy the moment, how quiet it was, but the silence meant that his thoughts were louder.

Since January, since the Carnivale his dreams had been plagued by fire. No matter what, it always led back to that and if he was lucky he’d avoid an accurate replay of what he had seen. He’d never admit to this, these nightmares seemed like a weakness and had been proven by Mr. Collins that he was some sort of pillar of support. Strength was what was needed. There was also the fact that these troubling dreams were not a rare case, he wasn’t the only one to watch what Dr. Stanley had done to himself. Surely that scarred others. Either way, there was no benefit in bringing them up.

He stood out in the cold, letting his mind wander to the earlier days of the expedition when his only troubles had been the cases of consumption and worrying if anyone actually liked him. He was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of Silence exiting the tent. He turned around to look to her and immediately saw how tired she was. Her face pale and eyes puffy. She had woken him up several times throughout the night with tears. He had done his best to comfort her when he could, but he understood why this wasn’t a cure all.

“Ullaakkut,” He smiled at her. “Did you sleep well?”

She shook her head and gave a soft smile in return. “Do you want to talk about it?” Again, she shook her head. He gave no further reply. What he had learned from just teaching her English was that she wasn’t someone you could push. A softer approach was more appreciated. Instead he turned back to face the wide expanse before their camp and took a deep breath.

She came and stood beside him, her arm touching his and pressed her body gently into his. He pressed back. They stood there for what felt like hours before Harry heard a soft grumble. He looked down to her stomach as she placed a hand on it. He could help, but chuckle at this.

“Nirijuguk?” He asked her. We eat? She nodded and made her way over to where they left the sled, and he followed happily. The gyrfalcon had been completely eaten the night before (who could blame them for not want to conserve the meat; they had been hungry though the meal hadn’t sated the pain in his stomach) so all that was left besides drying meat were the biscuits. He made a face when she pulled out one, but it was all they had.

There was no ceremony in eating the stale biscuits. Instead they leaned up against the sled and ate away in silence, each bite making Harry miss home cooking. His last meal at home, grouse rubbed in thyme and barded with bacon, bread sauce and clapshot on the side had been so delicious (and his favourite despite hating turnip with a passion) and the thought of it made him so hungry. They had been all together for that meal except for Archie who would see him in Greenhithe along with John and Joseph. At the time Harry had dreaded going home to say goodbye as he felt it would make the trip harder, but now thousands of miles away he was glad to have had that moment.  

He wondered if he survived this, would he look back to this meal as fondly? Would he remember every moment with Silence and cherish it as he did with memories of John? What was going to happen to them? The biscuit suddenly tasted worse than ever.

The meal didn’t last long, and they got started on packing up their camp. Silence was quick taking down the tent as she was putting it up. They were quick on their way.

-

By the third day, Harry could easily say he had never been so tired. Sure he thought he had felt peak exhaustion on day one, but this was something else. Harry wasn't pampered, his family could barely say they were upper-middle class and it gave him more freedoms then most of his rank. In his youth and even before he left Anstruther-Easter one last time, he would spend countless hours exploring and hunting with his brothers. If they had permission they were even allowed to camp out the night in a farmer's field. He knew what it was like to walk for hours on end and sleep on hard ground, but this was much more. He was getting to his limit far too fast. He was smart enough to know that he shouldn't complain. After all he signed up for this.

They hauled as far as they could, the only sign of the hours passing by was the pocket-watch he had with him, still working some how. He could never calculate the time with the midnight sun and he didn’t know how well Silence’s grasp on the concept of hours. He never asked.

The last three days had dragged on an extraordinary amount. What time he had allowed himself to melancholy and nostalgia were not drawn out and instead he focused on the trip ahead. He had also taken to focus on her. He still didn’t push, but he could see that grief was taking its toll on her. Sleep wasn’t coming easier for either of them, him with the odd pain in his stomach and her with tears. He would often press up against her in some fashion and this would lull her to sleep, but when they woke she’d pretend that nothing had happened.

Harry understood that decency was different out here and that such displays of physical affection were more common than back in Britain. And more accepted. He could already see Robert with mocked shock at Harry sleeping and holding a woman in bed that he was not married too, and the real shock and disappointment his father would have. Harry doubted the same was for Silence's family. Why would they ever discuss falling asleep against each other when it wouldn’t unusual to her? The tears however he knew she was avoiding talking about. Which bothered him. He wanted to comfort her, to give her some sort of relief. Instead he gave nothing and felt guilt over it.

By the third day this guilt had ravaged his insides and he had settled on talking to her. In the last hours of their trip he had practised over and over in his head what he would say, with it leading to ramblings and other times fantasizing she could speak back. When Silence had decided they had gone far enough, Harry was quick to grab the tent off the sled. Hoping if he got it up fast enough, it would give them more time to talk before exhaustion would over take them both. He had gotten quick at putting the tent up with minimal help from Silence, and when the barest was up he was thawed in his plans.

Before he could talk to her, she shoved a bow into his arms and motioned at him to follow. He looked to her with confusion, but did as he was told. She walked ahead, with purpose and confidence he hadn’t seen from her before. In tow she brought the sled without any of their supplies on it and a quiver of arrows on her back. He trudged behind her not sharing in her strides, not understanding why she was bringing him in the direction she was. After a while they stopped at the top of a hill, she tapped his shoulder and pointed down to specks below.

If his lungs hadn’t been burning from the walk he would have gasped. Caribou. A small bunch of them, but more than he would have suspected would have gone inland. He looked back to Silence in amazement and understood why she had brought them this way. Some how she knew. He handed the bow to her, but she pushed it back. She mimicked drawing a bow string and pointed to him. She wanted him to try.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” He spoke softly. “But I’m not amazing with bow. We hunted mainly with g-“

She put a hand to his mouth, very effectively getting him to stop and point to the caribou again. She wanted him to try, it didn’t matter to her if he was successful. It seemed like a terrible risk, but he hadn’t the energy to argue. She shrugged the quiver off her back and handed one arrow to him. Harry took it gingerly and prepared to take aim. One summer his father had taken Harry out with his older brothers to teach them to use the bow. There had been a whole history lesson with it, but the practical lesson had almost all, but faded from memory. Regret filled him for not listening better.

In his concentration to properly draw the bow he hadn’t realized that Silence had gone behind him and now was gently guiding his arms to the proper position. When this suited her, she ungloved her right hand and fixed his finger position on the arrow. He shook at this. Each touch sent heat through him and he suddenly realized how much he had missed this sort of thing. How starved he was.

Once his stance was what she wanted, she ungloved her other hand and stepped behind once again. He didn’t know what she was up to till he could feel calloused fingers just below his jaw, guiding his head to move. This touch made him gasp and he could hear her give a soft huff. He kept his attention solely on the caribou, looking down the arrow with his dominant eye, but at the back of his mind he was getting flustered by her attention.

He waited and took his time before releasing, making sure the aim was proper. Silence kept a steady hand on his right shoulder and low back the entire time. The pressure felt good and it gave him the confidence to release the arrow.

The animals below fled quickly when the arrow had made it’s mark and Silence pressed into him in an odd sort of hug. He could feel himself blush at that, hating how much he loved how her body felt against his. She was fast to make her way down the hill to the caribou he had hit. It had gone down, but he could tell he didn’t kill it in one shot. Pride had filled him for a second, the last time he had gone hunting for big sport was so long ago and then it had been with a gun. To think he had done what he had done on a first try was amazing. Guilt soon followed when he made his way down after Silence to see the arrow stuck in the animal’s neck and the sounds the poor thing made.

Silence wasted no time and pulled the arrow out of the neck. He stood just a way away and watched her careful as she took a knife from a pocket and put the animal out of it’s misery. She looked up to him and motioned him over, to sit beside her. He did so, not once taking his eyes off of the creature before him. She didn’t wait for him to sit before she took her knife and began to slice the belly of the creature open. He watched her deft hand pull the fur from the body, marvelling at how the skin looked below. The pink and veiny look the skin brought out the naturalist in him again and all he wanted to do was study the creature, take notes, and dissect. This obviously wasn't an option, but he let himself get wrapped up in the thought of it all.

She showed him how to skin the caribou and grabbing his hands at one-point guide him in taking the fur off. Again, he hated his reaction, her touching his hand shouldn't make his heart beat harder and yet. He didn't have time to ponder on this as the skinning demanded attention. The process was slow and by the time the animal was naked and exposed, his arms hurt, and his knees were sore from kneeling for so long. She had made her way to grab the sled again at one point leaving in to do the rest on his own and by time she came back it was ready to be loaded on. The walk back to the camp was slow with the animal, but along the way she showed him how she had known where the small herd was. Subtle signs in the landscape and the fact that there was brush that the animals would survive off, which she had thrown onto the sled as well. It would work as firewood.

“So, this is an area your people are familiar with?” He had asked when she was done explaining. He had been dragging the sled, so she could use her hands to communicate.  She shook head and pointed to the animal before crossing her arm in an x.

It took him a second to understand. “So, this area here? The animals don’t come.”

She smiled and shook her head. She pointed up, shook her head then pointed down and nodded. Simple to understand. “To the North where we were camped there isn’t much game.” She nodded to this. “And to the South there is game?” Again, she nodded.

The travelled quietly for a bit before he spoke up again, curiosity getting the most of him. “So… why are they more to the South?”

She took a second before reply. She pointed to the brush on the sled and motioned her hands out in a explosion. There was more vegetation to the South. He laughed at this.

“So, staying where they are is pointless?” He couldn’t help but laugh. So much bad luck for them and it just kept getting worse. He looked forward feeling something bitter on his tongue. “What do you think will kill the crew faster? Starvation, mutiny, Tuunbaq or English arrogance?”

He looked back to her and the look on her face showed that she didn’t understand what he was saying. Harry gave a soft sigh. “Don’t worry about it.” He felt more drained somehow.

They stayed silent all the way back to the camp. When they had made it back and had gotten the caribou off the sled, he took the moment.

“Silence,” He called out before she could get started on the fire. She stopped in her tracks and looked to him. “Ivvit piujut?”

She smiled and nodded her head, but this wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t know all the words he wanted to say in her language, but this didn’t stop him.

“Ivvit qusujuq. You are sad. I can see. Tukisjunga” He walked towards her, his body shaking slightly. She looked away from him and down to the stones. The look on her face was subtle, but there was unmistakably pain there. He was before her when he stopped. He stared hard at her, hoping she’d look up to him, but she did no such thing. He continued. “Uvaniituq ivvit,” He pointed to her and then to himself.

“I am here for you.”

She looked up then, tears forming in her eyes.

“Qusujuq.” He extended his hand shaking. He pressed his fingers gently where her heart would be. His other hand was brought to his chest. “Ikajuqtuq.”

Tears began to flow and soon she was sobbing. Harry brought his hand to her shoulder and patted it softly, before wrapping his arm around her in a hug. She leaned into him and pressed her face into his neck. Her arms made their way around his chest. In spite of the layers he could feel her shaky breathing and he brought her other arm around her, squeezing hard and tight. He pressed his face into her hair and closed his eyes. They stood like that for a while till her crying slowed down and her breathing returned to normal. Eventually she pulled away slightly, not so much as to pull away from his embrace.

Their faces were close to each other and Harry could feel his own go red. Silence’s gaze was intense and if it wasn’t for the teary smile on her face he wouldn’t know how to react. Then she was bringing her face towards his. He shut his eyes not wanting to see what she was going to do. In his shock, his eyes snapped open to her pressing her nose right against his cheekbone. Silence then breathed in deeply. She pulled away a little and opened her own eyes. They widened in surprise to see him looking at her, but this was quickly replaced by soft laughter and her eyes crinkling with her smile.

He found himself laughing too, something that started in his chest till it became a full-bodied laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so freely, it almost felt as if a weight had been lifted off of him. Silence pressed back into him, her face pressing back into his neck and he could hear her laughter grow stronger.

-

The pocket-watch he had brought along said that it was mid-afternoon. They had been travelling for about two weeks now, and according to what Silence had been able to communicate it’d take about a month’s travel to get to where she knew the band would be. Barely half of the trip done. Though it was obvious that that cloud still hung over her, there was a more lightness to her and their communication had picked up more. Maybe it was the fact they were so far from the crew that she felt that it was no longer necessary to hold up her stoniness. Simply put, she began to be more expressive in a way he’d never seen before.

There had been a few hunting trips in their journey, though they had mainly depended on the caribou he had taken down and the dried meat Crozier had given to her in the fur bag. It had been on one trip when Harry had told her about a previous one he had with his father and one of his younger brothers, Robert. How Bob had accidentally disturbed a nest of wasp and they both had gone running back to where they knew their father and friend would be. She had given a loud laugh as he described how poor Robert had run straight into a tree and they had been stung half a dozen times each. His heart faltered and restarted with a wilder beat when he heard her laugh like he had never before. She smiled largely, her teeth showing, and he felt almost drunk with happiness.

Still days after this, Harry found himself flustered at her smiles and affections.

He shoved the pocket-watch back into his coat and continued to carry the sled behind him. Silence walked beside him, taking a break from the carry. He had no issue carrying the load, in fact it was far more easier than hauling.

“There’s nothing more natural than pulling weight, Doctor Goodsir.” Gore’s voice echoed in his mind. For the first time, he could agree to such statement. He continued on his own till Silence took the rope again and the continued on.

Well towards the end of their day’s journey Silence was showing off her new skill, effectively telling with her hands how her people hunted seal. Harry had been so engrossed in her explanation until the moment his stomach painfully twisted. He let go of the rope and hunched over, covering his stomach with his left arm failing to hide a cry of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ride out the terrible cramp when he felt Silence’s gloved hand gentle press down on his hunched back. He tried to focus on the small circles she rubbed into his back rather than the intense pain.

“Qanuriŋŋittuŋa,” he gasped out and repeated in English. “I am fine.” He opened his eyes and tried to straighten himself out, but the pain was still there and got more intense as he did so. He felt like as though he was suddenly drenched in sweat, with the sensation as if he was spinning. He looked to Silence and tried to give a smile, but he wasn’t fooling her. She put out her hand to say stay still and move the sleigh over slightly before unbundling the tent. He stepped forward to protest, but she turned around quickly and shook her head. She pointed forcefully to the ground and made a tent with her hands.

Every attempt to help while she set up the barest of the camp was met with dirty look and at one point a shove till Harry gave up on trying. He instead squatted and clutched his stomach when the pain returned in full force. He tried focusing on his breathing, knowing that this would help with pain management, but this barely help. He was a doctor, though his patients were often cadavers, he had grown up with the region's physician as a father. He knew the basics before he was 12. Cramping in the area he felt it could be a variety of things, but most likely this was rooted in the food he’d been eating. Or the lack of food. Or the lead in the food. So many varieties, but all back to food.

Either way the pain was so intense he found himself gasping, his face wet with sweat. It overtook all his senses to the point where he hadn’t the capacity to feel guilt over being useless. He barely noticed when Silence had finished setting up the barest and had made her way to him. He only came to when she gentle put her arms onto his shoulder and helped him stand up. He stood hunched over, fearing the pain which had subdued somewhat would come back in full force. Inside the tent was dark as always and she only the furs on the ground to cover the stones. She took her hands off of him and made her way out before coming back in with a bundle of furs.

He took a step forward to help, she ignored him. Once the bedding for what he knew was for him was set down she turned to him again. There was such a look of determination in her, as if she knew a struggle was imminent. This turned out to be true when she made a move to take off his clothes.

“Wait,” he said weakly, trying to block her advances with his arms. “This isn’t-“

She smacked away his hands and grab his shoulders hard. She gave a quick shake and looked at him. Looked through him was more accurate. She seemed to say “Don’t fight this. Let me help.”

He surrendered when the pain came back like an ebbing wave before the flow, threatening to swallow him again. He said nothing when she pulled the jacket off of him, undid his scarf and brought him down to his shirt and pants. He thanked whatever God was still listening that she made no attempt to take anything off further when she finally pointed to the sleeping bag. The pain was hitting him again and there was no fight in him. He laid down when he was asked, not even taking a moment to take off his boots.

Lying down seemed to help with the pain, but not by much. When it came back the intensity was enough to make him cry out weakly. He folded into himself, trying to ride it out, but failing miserably. The pain subsided again, before making a return, his hand gripping at the furs in response to it. This pattern went for an eternity, before Silence entered the tent again.

Harry barely took any notice to her, his face buried into the furs making it hard to see much and he feared moving his body would bring back the pain. Still, he moved his head slightly to look at her. There was a look of concern on her face, she patted her stomach and pointed to him. He couldn’t tell if she was asking about whether he was hungry or if the pain was still there, so he blankly stared at her. He had no energy to try and decipher what she meant. Instead he closed his eyes. The pain had subdued enough that he could feel himself falling asleep, the last thing he remembered was the soft pressure of her hand touching his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ullaakkut - Good Morning  
> Ivvit piujut - You good?  
> Qusujuq - he is sad, but Harry means you are sad  
> Ikajuqtuq - he helps, but Harry means I will help. He sucks at this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn’t do what she did back then, which had been a gentle hand on his shoulder, but instead she pressed her back up against him. His crying had subdued and the pain in his stomach was now gone. He focused on how she seemed to breath with him and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this was written without a beta and I have a learning disability which makes spelling really hard. If you notice any errors, please let me know it'd be appreciated!

_The cold Arctic air seemed to clear Harry’s head better than anything else. He took in a deep breath closing his eyes in the process, the air not stabbing his lungs that it normally would. He took a moment to take in the stillness of the Polar night before something registered in him that he wasn’t alone. This brought no fear to him however, he opened his eyes and look to the right of him._

_“It’s cold out tonight,” her voice was as clear and crisp as the air around them. She smiled softly._

_Harry smiled back to her. It had been years but seeing her now made him feel as if he had never left in the first place. The Goodsir siblings resemblance only lied in the thick black hair they shared. Harry and Archibald had been the only ones that got their mother’s curly, thick and unruly hair while John and Joseph had gotten their father’s wavy hair. Robert had always been a good mix of both and Jane as well. Jane had barely changed since when he had last seen her, her hair done up in a braid and her feet bare._

_She stood in her nightgown, not at all shaken by the cold around them. In fact, Harry wasn’t wearing his winter attire either, not even a scarf, the one she knitted for him. She walked towards him and stopped when she was practically on him. “It’s been colder,” he finally answered her._

_“I can only imagine.” Her voice was clear and loud. “You’re need below Harry. Dr. Stanley is looking for you.”_

_He nodded and turned away from her to go. He didn’t think twice on her presence despite the fact she should be a thousand miles away from here. When he entered lower deck, he was met with a canvas maze._

_He walked through it, knowing where it would lead. When he made it to the end, he was met with a clear opening of a large tent. The last time he had been here there had been a crowd of men all around him, Alexander MacDonald had stood beside him. Alexander MacDonald was dead, accidentally gutted in an attempt to open the tent walls. All the surgeons except him had died that night. He was alone, just as he was alone in this tent. No, there was someone in the middle. He tugged at his scarf and pulled it closer to his face. He walked forward and realized who it was. Silence. He knew what was next. He knew._

_He tried to call out her name, a name he didn’t know, but his tongue was gone and there was no way he could cry out. She still turned around to him and opened her mouth as if to call out to him as well, but instead a fountain of blood came out. Fire suddenly surrounded him, and he felt too hot. So hot. He squeezed his eyes shut ready for the inevitable._

-

When Harry woke up the first thing he noticed was how tight his stomach felt. It was as though it was both empty and full at the same time, a desire to eat, but knowing that he couldn’t. He felt both so cold and hot at the same time, sweat stuck to him and where it had dried it was chilly. He felt grossly oily. His thoughts were almost erratic, trying to take stock of what happened and why he felt the way he did, but the fever that had set in made it hard to make clear connections. All he really could understand was the pain in his stomach, though a dull throb now was the reason behind all this. He remembered how Silence had undressed him the night before (or day) and how she must have taken care of him before and during his sleep. Normally this would cause him to blush, but there was a surprisingly lack of emotion. Emotion took energy and he had none.

He looked beside him to see Silence asleep. He moved to try and sleep on his side, so he could be facing her, but something suddenly felt off in his stomach. Too tight. He got up instead and made his way outside, desperately needing the cool air. He knew he woke Silence up doing this, he could hear the change in her breathing, but he ignored it.

Outside it was colder than he expected, but it didn’t stop him from walking forward. This was the first time in what most likely years since he was outside without a coat of some sort. He could feel the stones under his feet, suddenly aware that the boots he had been had been too exhausted to take off were gone. Most likely Silence’s doing. He ignored this too and walked until he could feel his stomach give.

He knew Silence had followed him outside and was cognitive enough to feel shame and embarrassment over the fact she had seen him vomit whatever was left in his stomach. He fell to his knees and gasped at the sharp pain the stones caused. He could hear Silence run towards him, the stones shuffling loudly. He was dry heaving when she was finally beside him, quick to cover him with a protective arm.

“Don’t,” he weakly cried out. “Please.”

He hated this, how weak and pathetic he must look. Maybe it was the doctor in him, but being taken care of was horribly unnatural to him. She ignored him and rubbed his back in response. He didn’t know how it started, but between the heaves he began to cry and shake. Eventually the heaving stopped, but the tears kept coming. Silence made no movement to show that she was disgusted by this display, by the saliva and bile that he could feel covering his chin, or even how sweaty he was. She continued to gently rub his back and him softly, an attempt to make him feel better that instead added to his shame.

He was barely aware when she helped him up, or when they were back in the tent. He could barely register what she wiped his face with or how she helped him back down into the furs. He was shaking uncontrollably, hating how he needed to be cared for. He turned away from her when she had given him a waterskin to drink from. She didn’t push. She instead put it beside his head and he could hear her then move around her furs. Then she was lying right beside him, much like the night when he had broken down.

She didn’t do what she did back then, which had been a gentle hand on his shoulder, but instead she pressed her back up against him. His crying had subdued and the pain in his stomach was now gone. He focused on how she seemed to breath with him and fell asleep.

-

Harry had woken several times during the night, each time ended in dry heaving and tears. Silence never followed him out but would be waiting for him when he came back inside with the handkerchief he had gifted her during the trip and the waterskin. He didn’t want to look to her, but he took these silently. When morning came, he was so exhausted and his skin so sensitive his skin seemed to crawl. He wasn’t going to let him stop this trip though. He had gotten dressed, gingerly putting his clothes back on, and stepped outside with less determination and more stubbornness.

Silence had protested to them going forward, but Harry had let this fall on deaf ears. He packed what he could despite the weakness that had settled into his bones and ate what he could even though his stomach turned and tightened. He would have solely taken down the tent if he could, but she seemed to understand there was no stopping him and helped.

The days were always started early, and they would be only a short time to break to eat and hunt along the way. Never did they break before the sun was directly above them. This routine was broken however. Harry was sure they never even made it to 11am before he collapsed. The ringing in his ears had been a warning as to what was about to come, and he had fallen to his hands and knees in an attempt to stop himself from passing out. His arms however gave him no warning and had given out too.

Later Harry would come to realize that this was a mixture of fever and weakness; there was only so much the body could handle before giving. With this fever much of the rest of the day became a blur. What he remembered clearly was Silence half carrying him to the sled and placing him down on the furs. He was half aware of her inspection of him, he became so focused on his breathing which had become hard and forced. Despite best attempts, he ended up passing out.

He woke several times, but he could barely keep his eyes open for more than a couple of seconds at a time. When he finally properly woke, the sun was low in the sky. He could only tell the position of the sun thanks to the tent flap being arranged in a way it was left open. The fever was still there, and his body was both freezing and hot at the same time.

He could hear someone outside, his mind cognitive enough to know that this was most likely Silence. He made no attempt to call put to her and closed his eyes again.

He dreamt of a harbour. Not just any harbour, but the one from home. He could see it more clearly than anything, he could see his brothers towards the end of the pier with their mother. The sounds of their voices rang clear, but he couldn’t make out the words, as if they were speaking through a thick veil. When he heard the laughter from one of his younger brothers, he almost broke out into a sprint for them, the feeling of longing and homesickness hit him in the chest hard. It felt so real that it almost seemed as if he could run to them, but Harry knew from the second he could make out the shape of his youngest brother that this was fake. Archibald was 19 when he last saw him, taller than him with a mess of black, curly hair to match. In his dream he could see they were only children, even John his oldest brother could barely be older than 17. It then became obvious the pain in his throat and how tight his lips felt. The sensation of dehydration pulled him from his sleep and back into the waking world.

Not much time could have passed since he closed his eyes. Silence was beside him now and he smiled weakly to her. He wanted to ask how she was, but no words would come out. His throat felt as though someone had shoved sand down it and any attempts to make noise was met with pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry from desperation and fear. Before long he felt something at his lips and the cool feeling of water. He opened his eyes and drank as deeply as he could from the skin that Silence had given him.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, speaking still painful. She shook her head and he watched as she spilled some water on the handkerchief she had. She dabbed his face with it, appreciating how cool is felt. When this was done she left the tent quickly and came back with one of the biscuits they’d avoided eating. He happily took it from her and nibbled at it slowly.

“I wasn’t in good health when we left,” He told her between bites. She nodded, showing she understood. “My stomach has been bothering me for weeks now.”

She hummed softly and pushed his hand to him mouth, bumping the biscuit into him.

“I’ll keep eating.” She smiled at that.

The worst of the pain in his stomach had passed, which he was grateful for. A slight ache was there now, but it felt more akin to hunger than anything else. This was good. The lack of strength he felt in his arms, and the dull ache in his back and legs was not the best sign but could be associated to something less severe.

All in all, this meant his stubbornness could stay.

“I can continue on,” He began. He was going say more, but Silence shoved him hard before he could. He looked at her shocked and then hissed in pain when her grip tightened.

“Silence please-“

“No!”

He wasn’t shocked before, he was now. The words had been muted, gargled and off, but they were that. Words. From her mouth.

She didn’t offer anymore than that, but even her own expression showed shock, as though she had forgotten she was capable of what she did. She exhaled loudly before shutting her mouth quickly. The look of shock started to look like one of horror. They stayed like that for a while, stunned and silent. Harry didn’t know where to begin, the fact that they did need to continue on, that resting for a day wasn’t viable, or the fact that she had just spoken for the first time in months. He ached suddenly realizing how much he had missed hearing her speak.

“Are you okay,” was what came out instead. She wasn’t looking at him now, instead staring off with confusion still all over her face. She nodded before looking to him, her eyebrows furrowed. She took her hands off of him and sat down proper, looking at her hands.

“I can walk, I’ll be careful.” He continued, gently. “We can’t stay still. Men depend on this.”

She nodded again and looked to him. She had quickly donned that emotionless mask and stared at him with intensity. He couldn’t help but note how tired she looked. He had been too tired to feel it before, but there was the guilt again. He hated being a burden on her, or relying on her too heavily. He wanted to apologise, but Harry knew her well enough to know she would not accept it and he'd feel more stupid afterwards. He weakily smiled at her and she sighed deeply in return. Silence touched her stomach. He shook his head.

“The pain isn’t there. I’m weak, but I can walk.”

She gave a small smile to that, but that was all. For a moment her mask broke and worry worked its way into every feature. His stomach twisted, but not from whatever illness had taken him. He had caused her to worry, which was unforgivable at best. He leaned forward and took one of her hands, squeezing it tightly.

“Qanuingi,” He said softy. “I am fine.”

She nodded again and smiled. She squeezed his hand in return. They sat like that for a moment before he spoke again.

“So, you can talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter especially after the long wait. I've been very busy with work so editing has been a pain. Next update might not be for a while so apologies in advance!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Water,” was all she said when Harry gave her a confused look. So, they had reached the south of King William then. He couldn’t help but be excited too and despite the complaints his muscles gave he pushed harder to make his way to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I am doing this without a beta so please let me know if there are any mistakes!

He stared at her intently, though it was hard to stare for so long. He had always had trouble with such things. It would have felt rude if he looked away now though. Whatever he did would cause him some sort of discomfort, but he'd rather be slightly uncomfortable than rude.

“You spoke,” He repeated it in Inuktitut. He almost had to force his gaze away from her, she stared back more intensely than he could normally handle.

She blinked slowly, her expression unreadable. She still held onto his hand, but the grasp was loose now. She made no effort to communicate with him and Harry felt himself go red. His bluntness had backfired and suddenly he felt shame.

She then gave his hand a little squeeze before letting go. He watched her intently as she began to mimic a scene. Hands around her throat, cutting out her tongue, her hand dragging something out of her mouth. She continued on and Harry felt as though he was finally grasping what she was trying to say.

Not that she couldn’t, but she shouldn’t. Harry had taken care of her after Carnivale, taking care to cauterize her wounds and make sure she mended well. He had seen what had been done to her father, and her own attempt to cut out her tongue had been sloppy at best. It hadn’t been to the root.

Maybe this was the first moment she realised she could still speak, though the one word had been guttural and rough. Or maybe she had known all this time and had slipped. Either way what he got was that her silence was somehow connected to the Tuunbaq and the duty she owed it. Though he’d never say, he felt as though she should not longer concern herself with it. Seeing her bloodied at Carnivale had been enough to make his heart stop and filled the urge to hurt whatever did that to her.

“Ipatsik.” He said softly. “I understand completely, I won’t ask any more.”

Her expression went soft before something shifted. She leaned forward and opened her mouth. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck when he heard he speak again. Two words. It was not pleasant on the ears, and almost sounded as though it hurt to speak. The words were Inuktitut for certain or he thought so? There was one word that sound distinctly English, but he couldn't understand her so well.

She tried three times, her face scrunching each time and the sounds more confident. Eventually the words became more clearer to him. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized his own name. Pisuggak Harry. He knew this word, hard to walk.

He couldn’t help, but laugh and she smiled as well, Silence looked proud of herself. A smirk suited her face.

“I can walk,” He said. “I said I’d follow you.”

Her smile widened at this.

“Ottuk,” She said. “Ottuk ukak. Ukavigok.”

These words came easier than the ones before though Harry had to spend a moment to try and piece together what exactly she said. In a rough translation, I will try to speak and to speak English. He nodded and felt his face get warm. The fact she was willing to try to speak with him despite what she had mentioned earlier about vows of silence and all made him feel almost special. That maybe there was something more to this relationship then he though. His thoughts faltered. Relationship? Odd enough, he had never allowed himself to think of any sort of relationship with Silence. He saw her as a companion that would eventually go, this was the nature of situation. He couldn’t stay, and she couldn’t go.

He felt himself blush when he finally let himself admit that this was something deeper then he allowed himself to accept. That their impacts on each other were deeply rooted.

He looked away from her and blushed even deeper. Her hand touched his again and he gasped softly. When Harry looked to her again and she squeezed his hand. A soft smile.

He thought himself lucky.

-

_The garden hadn’t change much since he left. Jane had been a scientist of her own, a botanist. Though one would argue that tending to flowers was a woman’s duties, Jane took this to another level. He had been at her mercy enough times to know which ones were edible, which ones had healing properties and which ones you should never attempt to make tea out of._

_Silence fit in this garden, it seemed as though she was meant to be here. They were standing beneath the shade of the tree, her hair down and in a dress. It was odd to see her in such attire, but he didn’t question it though he did note he liked her better in furs and pants._

_“What is this?” Her voice was clear, to him it sounded English though it was hard to say. He didn't question it, as long as he understood her._

_“My home,” He responded. “Anstruther-Easter.” He motioned to the large white house. “I was born and raised there.”_

_She looked around, her eyes curious. “Say the name again of this place?”_

_“Anstruther-Easter.”_

_“Ayster?”_

_He laughed. He made sure this time to sound it out harder. “Ainster.”_

_She smiled at him. “Do all you white men speak so weird?”_

_He smiled back at her wide, “Only the British ones. Us Scots speak it proper.”_

_She kept smiling, but her face took on a hint of confusion. “So much to learn. Anstruther. British. Scots. All of this.”_

_“I know it’s a lot.”_

_“I want to learn.”_

_He felt his smile falter. He hung his head and felt his tears prick his eyes. “I’d bring you here if I could you know I would.”_

_He felt a hand touch his cheek. He brought his face up to look to her. The soft pressure on his chest told him that she had place her other hand there. Instinctively he brought his hand to cup her cheek as well, cherishing how warm and soft it was._

_“I’d take you wherever you’d like,” he whispered._

_“First,” her voice was just as soft. “I need to get you home.”_

_He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out and the horror that this was all a dream hit him hard._

-

“Okay Iqisulik?” Her words were still gargled and wrong, but easier to make out. Harry nodded and keep walking. A fortnight had passed since his unexplained illness, and yet there was still a weakness in his bones. It didn’t worry him too much, considering the amount of physical activity, low diversity in foods, and that his illness had been severe he was surprised he was still walking as well as he was. He had been sure in the first several days he’d collapse again. Now though, it was more like when he had tried pushing through his tooth infection during a bust season at the Surgeon's Hall. It was a pain, but manageable. It just left him more exhausted than he would have wanted and obviously slowed his healing process. He made no mention of this to Silence, knowing she'd either want to stop or be concerned over him. She could tell though, that was obvious by the exasperated looks she'd give him at times.

She swore that they were close now. “Soon,” Silence had troubles with s’s and n’s, but for the most part she was understandable. “Will see big waters. Then.”

Her English had been stellar before and he could tell it still was, but she purposefully kept her sentences short. He had nodded then and waited for the ‘big waters’ and what else would tell them they were at their goal.

All in all, Harry was pleased, they made good time. He had almost been sure they wouldn’t make it within the time Silence had previous predicted and yet here they were. Barely a month later and they were practically days away. Maybe even only a day. It was the only thing made him push forward without complaint. Get to the Esquimaux village, ask for help, and profit. Harry had something in him, that hadn’t been there in ages. Hope. There was an abundance of emotions in him, something that had begun to take root when Silence had spoke again. Some he would revel in, others he buried deep, but in the end it felt wonderful. It was good to feel something so positive and forceful again.

Silence was walking ahead of him, leaving the sled to be carried by him. She scoured the landscape, searching for something Harry could not say. He didn’t question her when she did things he had no idea about, there was absolute trust that in the end she’d lead him the right way.

She had begun to wander further from him, bearing no mind to how slow he was going and ran up a hill. She looked beyond it and turned back to him, excitement evident on her face. She ran back down and quickly grabbed hold of the rope to help him lead it up the hill.

“Water,” was all she said when Harry gave her a confused look. So, they had reached the south of King William then. He couldn’t help but be excited too and despite the complaints his muscles gave he pushed harder to make his way to see it.

The sight did not disappoint. Harry found himself gasp, the water was not as frozen over as the waters that would lead to the Beaufort Sea, but this was obviously the exception. The thaw meant that these waters were shallow which made his heart leap. He was quick to turn back to the sled and rummage in the furs to grab his journal, where he kept a map. It was outdated, considering they had named several new straits on their voyage and Harry had been gifted this map when he was still in Greenhithe. He looked at it and to the open waters, then to Silence. Something clicked in his head and he needed proof.

“If you know,” He begun, holding the map out to Silence. “Point where on this map we are.”

She took off her glove and looked at the map with careful eyes. They had done this several time on the trip, so he was confident in her ability to find where they were. She pointed low on the map and made a motion with her finger to show the shore line in a way. Harry couldn’t help himself from smiling.

“Kikittak?” His voice cracked. “It’s an island!”

She looked at him with confusion, not understanding why he was so happy, but she nodded. “Kikittak.”

It was like the breath was knocked right out of him. He knew that Captain Crozier had believed the land to be an island and this held great news. A way to get to the Passage without risk of being frozen in. He had no belief now that he’d ever get to be apart of the crew that found the Passage, but there was something euphoric about this discovery. He gently touched Silence on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She smiled wide in response.

“Continue.” She said, and Harry nodded. She turned back to the sled and he quickly took his pencil out of his pocket and wrote at the bottom of the map where the body of water that laid before him was. King William Island.

He couldn’t help, but almost skip along as they continued on, the day almost at an end. The weakness in him was ignorable now in his happiness. Silence would bump into him purposefully ever so often, leaning hard which Harry would do in response. Happiness was infectious after all. When it was time to come to a stop and put up camp for what might be the last time was when Silence had gasped loudly and pointed to the distance.

Harry wasn’t a particularly religious man, he believed in God and went to church every Sunday he could, but beyond that he was a decent Protestant at most. This though, coupled with the discovery of the strait made Harry think that maybe God was more real than he gave him credit for. This was almost like a miracle.

In the distance, plain to see was a group of people in furs. More Netsilik. And they were making their way to them, obviously taking notice of them. Silence turned to Harry, a solemn look on her face that said stay here. He nodded and looked back out to the people. He watched as Silence made her way out to her people, steady and confident strides. When they met halfway, he could see them talk to her, but Silence said nothing. She pointed to him and lead them to him.

She jogged ahead of them, to give herself time to speak to him he supposed. “Very close. Keep going no stop.”

“Of course,” he practically whispered. He kept switching his gaze between her and the approach people. “I suppose this is the end of talking?”

She nodded. Her mouth twitched slightly, and she looked almost regretful. He wasn’t pleased at the idea of saying goodbye to this part of her, even if it was only for a while. He couldn’t stop himself from expressing this.

“I’ll miss your voice again. And smiles.”

Harry was shocked to see her blush; her face went red in seconds and she looked away quickly. He hadn’t had a chance to apologise when one of the men step forward.

“ _Do you speak our tongue,_ ” The man said. His dialect was different than Harry was used to, but he was sure when he spoke his own terrible mixture of dialects would be hard on this man’s ears.

“ _Yes. I am from North. Many men there. We need help,_ ” He cringed at his words, they were choppy, but they were all he had. The man nodded in response.

“ _We will take you back to the camp where you can speak with someone who could help. Follow us_.”

Harry nodded and looked to Silence who remained expressionless. There was a quick glance though, something that was almost joyful, and Harry was more than pleased to carry the sled some extra miles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t forget yourself. These Pale Men are here to make sure of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall have NO IDEA how excited I am that we are finally onto some Silna's narrative chapters. I was drudging through Harry's waiting till I could finally write about the queen of my heart.

She had never really liked the name given to her. It had been the tall one, the one who hadn’t given her all her father’s amulets that gave her the name. Lady Silence. A name meant to ostracized.

She was used to that she supposed, from the moment he father took her in there had been something dividing her from the rest. She was meant to be a spiritual connection between the supernatural that lived among her people and others. In the weeks she had spent with Iqisulik, she had forgotten what it was like to be divided.

There were people she recognized, from another family that they would often live with during the winter months. To see them when it was still summer was a surprised, but she instantly knew why. Tuunbaq. Shame filled her, but she didn’t let it show. To them, she was not Lady Silence, but the mask she wore and the person she had to became now bear that name.

“Silna,” One of the men said when she met with them. His face was practically covered, but that voice was easy to recognize. Tuktu. “We were told you had gone missing on the ice.”

She couldn’t speak now. Not that it had been easy for her. Iqisulik liked it though and the act of speaking had brought her some joy. That maybe she hadn’t be as bound as she once thought. Silna was free to do what she wanted, Lady Silence was a failed _anakkuit_ who was close to doom.

She shook her head and pointed in the direction where Iqisulik, or Harry as he called himself was standing.

“A white man.” Tuktu said, shocked. “Why?”

She looked to him, expressionless. She couldn’t explain. Tuktu smirked ever so slightly. “We will talk to him then.”

They followed her back, but she needed more time with Harry before they could have him. She looked back to these people and then quickened her pace. When she met with Harry again, he looked at her with confusion and worry.

“Very close. Keep going no stop.” She said, her voice low. It made it sound more guttural than usual, but she ignored this.

“Of course,” he whispered back. He was nervous, it was apparent in the way he kept switching his gaze. He focused back to her if only slight. “I suppose this is the end of talking?”

Silna took pride in her ability of controlling her emotions, but now that all wavered. She could barely stop herself from frowning.

“I’ll miss your voice again. And smiles.” It was said so lovingly, not intentional, but still there. It hit her hard and she felt her face go warm and red. The realization of what he had done crossed his own face and Silna could not keep her gaze to him. She looked away feeling a complication of emotions and tried her hardest to shove them back below.

She scarcely took notice of Tuktu when he joined them and brought no attention to the what they were saying. Her heart refused to slow, and she cursed herself for being so affected. When Tuktu began to walk away, she realized he had accepted Harry and she looked to him, hoping he could see her happiness. He smiled softly. That was enough for her.

They continued to walk, and Silna was reminded how much her strength had withered away. When she had gone to the North of the land with her father, she hadn’t been as worn out as she was now. Each muscle in her leg complained and seized, but she continued walking.

She figured Harry was in worse pain than her. She was constantly impressed by him, he obviously wasn’t as useless as the rest of the men he travelled with, but it was evident that this had been too much for him. Since he had been sick, he seemed paler and more exhausted. She didn’t like how his clothes had begun to hang off him. She walked closely to him. It had been something she picked up from him, she leaned into him slightly, a soft bump of the shoulders. He pressed back, and she couldn’t keep a smile off her face. It was not so long of a walk till they made it to their goal, though it was a long walk enough.

Her heart leapt in her chest when they came across a familiar sight of fur tents and even more familiar faces. Family. Not really family, but the closest she came to it. These are the people she had lived with from the moment she was united with her father. This was her home, something she hadn’t had in so long.

She had to stop herself from rushing forward, in her joy she had almost forgotten herself. She was now Lady Silence, these people who not greet her with embraces now that she had taken up her father’s mantle. She had to act the part that was put on her.

She looked to Harry, who was not doing so well to hide his emotions. Nervousness was written all over his face mixed with exhaustion, though he seemed pleased as well. How could he not be, they had finally made it. Trying to convey her sympathy to him, that they would rest soon, she gently touched her hand to his shoulder and gave a small smile. He gave a quick jerk of his lips in return, but that vanished fast. He looked drained in a way she hadn’t seen in a while and the thought that maybe this would make him sick again crossed her mind. She had no time to worry though and shoved this thought back below.

She turned her attention to Tuktu, who was making his way over to the bigger of the tents. Silna put her hand up to Harry, telling him to stay put and moved forward. Tuktu opened the flap to the tent for her, but it was obvious he would not be following her. She ducked her head and made her way in, trying to keep her motions confident and steady. This of course was successful, even though her stomach felt as though it was fluttering. She couldn't help, but share in Harry's nerves. These next moments would mean so much.

In the tent was only one man. Her people did not appoint a man to lead them like the white men did in their giant boats. There was no Aglooka here, but if there was one man who did watch over them, it was the man sitting here now. Asiajuk had not changed much in the time since Silna last saw him. He looked to her, showing no sign that he was surprised to see her. The last time they had meet, her father had been bidding his farewells as they would be continuing to the North in order to assure the Tuunbaq who had grown restless.

“It has been a long time, Silna.” He spoke smoothly. He motioned with his hand for her to sit which she did with no hesitation. “A long story is behind this I suppose.”

She made no attempt to talk, she knew her place. She did not cut out her tongue because she could, she did it because the _angakkuit_ who commanded the Tuunbaq was to be muted, a sign of dedication. The first of the _angakkuit_ who had finally contained the Tuunbaq had promised their voices for no one else, but the Tuunbaq and they should commune with him with songs made by the throat. Silna had broken that rule, but she had little care. She had enough reason to her to know that she shouldn't show her apathy.

She opened her mouth to show him the ruin that was her tongue. She had done it so sloppily, if it had been done proper she would have had a ceremony with the _sixam iuena_ and she would have been guided by her father. Her tongue was a sign of her failure. Asiajuk looked solemnly at her.

“This means he is gone then. Does the God Who Walks Like a Man listen to you? Are we safe?”

She shook her head. She knew the language that the _sixam iuena_ men spoke with, she had no mother, so she learned the man’s way from her father. She spoke with her hands and made the hand sign for the white men. The Tuunbaq, as prophesied, has begun to consume the pale souls of these men, but that’s where the prophecy ended. Tuunbaq did not show sign of being sickened by them. Instead it had been their fire and loud weapons that had done damage. Asiajuk watched patiently as she told her story, from the moment they had meet the Pale Men on the ice ridge, how they had wounded her father in confusion, how the _Ânniasiutik_ she had taken to call Iqisulik had tried his hardest to save him, that her father died, that she was never given his totems before they threw him under the ice, that the white man who the people to the West had called Aglooka gave her shelter and took it away, the nasty man called Hickey who had tried to have her killed, the Tuunbaq’s attack on the men and their eventual march to find their way home.

Silna made it clear these men didn’t want to be here. That they didn’t mean to stay in the land for as long as they did. When she had finally revealed she brought one of the men with her, the _Ânniasiutik_ or Doctor in his tongue did Asiajuk finally cut her off.

“We can only feed and support ourselves, Silna. These men are too many if what you say is true-“

She jumped forward to him and grabbed his shoulders. She made the sign to make him listen.

“Please listen to him. He is good. They are scared. They are good men.” She signed, her words loosely echoing what Harry would try to convince her and now she must use to convince Asiajuk. “Please. Please.”

Asiajuk shook his head and looked to the tent opening. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, and Silna made no attempt to disrupt this. He was thinking, and she could only pray he would give her the answer she needed. She didn’t care for most of the white men, but there had been some she had grown fond of. She didn’t like dwelling on it, but Harry had touched her soul in a way no one had. She needed him to live more than anything else. He could not out here. Asiajuk’s answer hinged on everything.

What felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes and she could not hide her anticipation. She leaned forward, her gaze intense. Asiajuk did not fall under this and spoke steadily.

“I will listen to this doctor, and I will make my choice then.”

Silna could have laughed then. It was a battle to keep her face straight, but underneath it all she was so happy. One word from Harry and Asiajuk could not help but love the man. This is what Silna tried convincing herself. He called Tuktu into the tent and asked the man to grab “the pale man” which Tuktu agreed to with no further words. Asiajuk looked to Silna and offered one more word before their privacy would be gone.

“Don’t forget yourself. These Pale Men are here to make sure of that.”

Silna nodded, the words digging deeper than she would liked them too. They had always known invaders would come to their land and attempt to steal what they had as was the fate of all people, but Silna did not see these men as such invaders. They were stupid, useless children who didn’t know how to survive, but they did not try to take in the way Asiajuk thought. They seemed to care little about her people. That stung worse than if they tried to take. Her people were nothing to many of the white men, but it did not halter her kindness. She owed the few men she liked that.

Harry came into the tent moments later, uncertainty on his face. Her looked to her and smiled, and she blinked in response. It was all she could offer. He sat next to her and smiled again sweetly. It was an odd moment, as though she was replaying something that had once happened. It was like when she had been brought to the Terror and Aglooka had questioned her. They had shared a smile between them, a comforting thing. Now the roles were reversed, and she could only hope it didn’t go as terribly as it had before.

“Silna tells me that your men are dying,” Asiajuk said, motioning to her. Silna looked to Harry in time to see confusion cross his face, and it dawned on her that this was the first time he had heard her name. His eyes widened in wonder and he looked to her with joy.

“Silna?” His voice could barely contain what he felt, cracking slightly. The look on his face reminded her off a dog about to be given seal fat and she couldn’t help but smile at that. She nodded. Asiajuk did not partake in this and was quick to move on.

“Why do you come here, Iqisulik?”

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. His face scrunched up in the way it did when he was trying to figure out the words to say. Finally, he spoke.

“We need help,” His tongue was not accustomed to the hard ways her language was spoken or the delicate ways it needed to roll. He spoke with a mix of dialects, though this was not his fault. He learned not just from her, but from books and men who spoke in the different ways her people did. He was understandable however, though accented heavily.

“And what help do you need of us.”

Harry paused, not expecting this. How could he answer that she knew he was thinking. He was easy to read.

“A way out.” He said. “We need our way out.”

Asiajuk nodded. “But what do you need of us?”

Harry faltered again and looked to Silna. He switched to his own language when he spoke to her. “I don’t know the words.”

She nodded and touched her chest softly. She would translate. He got this quickly and conveyed what he wanted to say.

“Tell him,” Harry spoke, hushed. “That we don’t want to take from your people any more than we have, we need someone who can show us a way out of King William. Tell him our food has been poisoned and each bite we take kills us. Tell him that the Tuunbaq kills us. That men from within our group are trying to kill us.”

Silna nodded and signed this message to Asiajuk. She could see out of the corner of her eye how he watched her use her hands to speak. She put to her mind that she would begin to teach him the hand language when he had better master the spoken one. When she was done, Asiajuk looked to her with amused shock, a smile barely on his lips.

“Silna told me nice things about you, Iqisulik,” Asiajuk said, still looking to her. “She said you are a good man. Your words show this. You come all this way. I will humour you.”

Silna gasped and tried to hide this as cough, but she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. Harry, though bad at speaking had excelled at understanding what was spoken to him. He didn’t need a translation based on the expression his face. He laughed and clasped his hands together.

“Thank you,” He said in her tongue. “Thank-“

“I cannot make this decision on my own however-“ Asiajuk interrupted. “In less than a moon cycle, we will be meeting with the families we travel with during our winters. I will talk to them then, and we shall make a decision together.”

Harry’s face dropped for a second, but he picked his smile back up again. “Yes, I listen.”

Asiajuk smiled to Harry, “You are welcome among us till then. You know how to hunt?”

Silna didn’t give Harry a chance to speak, she was quick with her fingers. “He has hunted with me on our way here, he has told me back in his home he would hunted mainly birds with his family. He is good."

Asiajuk nodded at this, obviously pleased. “We will teach you our way then Iqisulik. Till then, rest and regain your strength.”

And like that it was over. After an entire cycle of walking, they were done. All that was needed was waiting, and that seemed somehow worse. She shoved Harry slightly with her hand and stood up, which he followed suit.

“Thank you again,” Harry said. “Your name?”

“Asiajuk.”

Harry nodded. “My language, I am ‘Harry Goodsir’. Good to meet you.”

“A good name.” Was all that Asiajuk offered back and he nodded to Silna. So there was approval from him on Harry, not that she needed it.

Silna left the tent then and was followed by Harry not too long afterwards. He was still smiling, but he wobbled slightly on his feet. She was sure that she was no better. They both had pushed themselves too much and now they needed rest. She had, in a way spoken the hand language to Harry before she had begun talking again. Then it had been more basic and less structured. She hoped now that he'd still understand what she meant with the lack of words. She made a sign of a tent and motioned with her hand to follow. He nodded his head and said nothing.

Again, he said nothing as they made their way to the sled, and there was nothing as they put up the tent, close to the tent she knew held Natsiq and her child. She had seen the woman go into the tent earlier.

His silence was unusual. He was like an excited child most of the times, telling her anything and everything which she would listen to happily, but whether it was from exhaustion or lack or words, he stayed quiet. She did not take this as malice, but rather perhaps a busy mind at work. He had the look on his face that he would get when he was trying to understand whatever was placed before him. He was way too easy to read.

The tent was up quickly, and Harry looked to it apprehensively. He then looked to her. “Are we sleeping together still?”

She had not thought of that. They had only one tent of course and she had never shared with anyone else, but her father. It was only natural she’d still share with him. How would he know that though? If this is what kept his mind busy, it made her heart rush. What laid between the words said so much. That he didn't want to part with her. She smiled at him and nodded. She turned from him to grab the furs that would line the ground and be their bedding, still smiling and not letting her thoughts and emotions be pushed under this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angakkuit - Shaman  
> Sixam Iuena - No exact translation, in the book these were the people specifically meant to contain Tuunbaq, but I feel like Silna would not count herself in them anymore  
> Ânniasiutik - Doctor
> 
> Remember the guy at the end of the show who tells James Ross everyone is dead? We don't have a name for him, so I stole one from the book Asiajuk was originally an old shaman, but he was the closest to who mystery man is so I stole his name. 
> 
> We have an explanation for how Tuunbaq came to be from the book, but seeing as I hate the book with a passion I'm taking sparingly from it. Basically all you need to know is the woman who created the Earth made a demon who was eventually casted to Earth and loves the taste of human souls. He doesn't protect the land as much as he has a little truce with the people. They have to bring him animals to eat and they have to sing to them. The sign language thing is also taken from the books. The whole "we knew the white man was going to put us into residential schools and make our men wife beaters" doesn't sit very well with me so that's getting excluded. Dan Simmons choke challenge.
> 
> (you guys are going to learn what Iqisulik means very very soon if you havent already googled what it means. If you haven't wait. Please I promise it's cute)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping herself emotionless was impossible now, she looked at him with disgust and horror. How dare he suggest this. She had become convinced he would leave, that he could never stay and yet he offered it. “No.”

 

Harry slept fitfully. Silna watched as he tossed and turned in his bed, his breathing uneasy. She had expected him to chat with her before they retired as he always did, but instead he had ripped off his boots and took off his jacket before falling into the furs and falling asleep instantly. She would have done the same if her mind wasn’t racing.

 “Don’t forget yourself. These Pale Men are here to make sure of that.”

She twisted the fur blanket in her hands hard, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. Asiajuk was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it. They took her father, her freedom and any chance she’d have of following in his steps proper. She didn’t want to dwell on it much, but once this was over what was left for her?

She looked back to Harry who had woken up. His breathing had changed, a sharp gasp. He sat up for a second and looked around, even in the dark she could see the slight panic on his face. He gave a sigh and she reached on to touch his arm. He gasped again at this. Mumbling out an apology, he slunk back down into his furs and within minutes was asleep again.

This she didn’t want to think about. Silna had grown too use to his company. Out of all these men, he was the one she could say she cared for truly. He was her friend. He was going to leave though, if she had her way. He could never be happy here, not with a life back across the waters. And when he left, she was going to be alone. No matter what happened, the Tuunbaq refused to listen to her and she had let herself get sloppy in the rejection.

She was going to be exiled. Her people would never accept her again. Staying with these white men or staying with her people she had to give something up. It was a matter of deciding what hurt more.

She didn’t sleep well that night, though she wouldn’t say it was a nightmare that ruined her sleep. Harry was plagued by nightmares, that was obvious. She never really shared a tent with him before their march, but when she had been healing and he had fallen asleep while taking care of her she had seen how he’d jolt out of his sleep in a panic. Silna experienced her own so differently. It was less like nightmares, but more dread that hung over her. She’d see her father, or the little child that the men had killed. Sometimes it was the white men killed by Tuunbaq.

That night she had dreamt of Harry. It was during the warmer season, when the _kimminnaq_ in the moss having grown. She plucked at them and stuck them in her mouth as quickly as she could and laughed at Harry’s concerned expression.

“What are these,” He had asked, plucking one and rolling it in his fingers. She wasn’t sure if he was speaking in her tongue or not, but she didn’t have to mind figuring it out.

“Cranberries.” She said with a mouthful. “In your language they’re cranberries.”

She had no way of actually knowing the word and yet she did. Had they talked about it once, she tried to think back to their lessons. Foods, clothing, equipment, family, home, land, and anything else they could speak of. They must have talked about it once.

He put it in his mouth and chewed curiously before smiling. “It’s good.”

She nodded. “Of course, it is. You can make teas out of it. If you white men knew this, you wouldn’t get sick.”

He laughed and sat down onto the moss cross legged. In her dream Harry looked as full and healthy as he had when they first begun their lessons, though the beard he grew remained.

“That’s our fault I suppose,” He said this with a tad lilt in his voice, as though he found what he was about to say funny. “We think we are so smart, when we know nothing. And our pride keeps us from asking for help.”

She nodded and positioned herself next to him, a handful of berries in her ungloved hand. “Don’t think we are better. My people are like your people in ways. We have our pride.”

“But you are kinder. You know this to be true.”

She looked to him, and he smiled softly in the way he would when he was unsure. It didn’t reach his eyes at all. “Maybe you are right. People back in your home are kinder. Out here what keeps you kind? It’s hard to stay kind when you’re lost.”

Harry wasted no time and replied. “Decency. Morals. A good sense of character. Notice how the men who were good and just to begin with stayed so. Look at our Captain.”

Aglooka. Silna did not like him at first, it was obvious in his eyes he hated being on the ship, in her home, away from his own. He wanted to die. Something changed though in the time she was gone, and he seemed clearer. As though a sickness in him was gone. He seemed kind enough.

“Do you know what we call your Captain?” She asked him.

He nodded, “Of course, Aglooka. It was given to him during one of his previous expeditions. The man who gave it to him used our Captains’ name in return if my memory serves me right.”

Silna shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that, but in our tongue, it means ‘One Who Takes Long Stride’. We give people names that have deeper meaning. Some are named after body parts, others are named after their character.”

Harry nodded at this, his gaze growing distant as he thought on this. He was silent for a moment before rapidly blinking and looking back to her. “You call me Iqisulik. What does that mean?”

She smiled wide and popped a cranberry in her mouth. “Going with the same format as Aglooka, ‘One with Curly Hair’.”

His mouth dropped before he gave a wide smile, baring his teeth wide enough she could see his gums. He started laughing, it beginning in his chest before it was full-bodied. Squeezing his eyes tight and covering his mouth with his hand, he laughed loudly and Silna couldn’t help, but laugh along.

“God,” He gasped. “The perfect name for me.” He tugged at his hair and laughed again.

“I couldn’t remember Harry in the beginning I’m sorry,” She apologised. “But I had never seen anyone with such curly hair before.”

Harry nodded, still chuckling to himself. “I really love it. Thank you.”

They were silent again. She enjoyed it, being able to sit next to him and take in the view before them. The land he called King William was beautiful, covered in moss and stone, a wide expanse of water before them.

“I’ll miss this I think,” He whispered. “But I think I might miss you more.”

Silna woke with a started, his words echoing in her ear. A decision was made in a spilt second then unmade again. She looked to her side, to see Harry awake, his journal out before him. He looked to her and smiled softly with it reaching his eyes.

“Do you want to know what Iqisulik means,” She mumbled. In her dream her tongue had been in tact and she spoke perfectly.

-

“Do you think it’s selfish of me to want to go with these white men.” She asked no one. She had wandered off from the camp, leaving Harry to one of the men who was preparing seal meat. He had been excited to watch one taken apart, so he could take notes. The man had been more than happy to let Harry watch and Silna was more than happy to be alone.

“Perhaps,” a voice said within her, sounding oddly like her father. “But what would you gain by going.”

She walked on along the coast, the mainland always in sight. “I don’t know what I gain, but I know what I lose. They go, and I will have no one.”

“But if you go what will you have.” Her father’s voice asked. She shook her head, but it continued. “Everything you know is here. You know how to live off the land and survive. You know the people, the spiritual connections. Just because you failed doesn’t mean-“

“I didn’t want this,” She whispered out. “I didn’t want to be a _sixam iuena_. I didn’t want to be bound to Tuunbaq and any child of mine to be bound too. It’s why you didn’t have a child, but it’s why you took me.”

The voice said nothing in return. She must have looked crazy talking to herself, but she didn’t care. Looking out to the mainland, she saw something she’d never saw before. An opportunity. “If I am left here, I will wander the land ashamed and lost forever. I go with these men I might get to see something amazing.”

The voice said nothing.

“I don’t want to leave,” Her voice got thick with tears. “I don’t know if I want to go, but I don’t want him-“

“Don’t make your choices around some man,” The voice appeared again. “Do what you think is right.”

Nothing more could be said, and she turned around back to the camp, hoping Harry wouldn’t make any comments about her tears.

-

“It’s amazing how you all prepare food and so on here,” Harry gushed loudly. “Not a single part of the animal is left unused!”

Silna nodded, happy to see him back to normal. It had been several days since they had settled at the camp, and they could finally say they were use to being still. The first couple of days they had almost taken down their tent out of habit, Harry had laughed about it and joked about it to the women who had taken liking to him. She was amazed by how quickly the people warmed up to him. Maybe it was the endearing way he spoke with his mismatched dialects, or just his overly energic personality when presented with all this new information, but a few of the women had let him watch as they made cloth and dried food. They laughed and talked with him as he asked a bounty of questions.

It was good to see him happy again, but it was making things harder for her. She was constantly debating with her thoughts as to what she had to do next. There was no guarantee she could get these men out of her land, but the chance had increased now. She had to decide as to whether she would continue with them, and she had to make it quick.

Asiajuk had come to her that morning and let he know that they wouldn’t wait for as long as they thought, which had been terrifying news.

“The two families we are waiting on maybe here before we see the moon full,” He had told her as she sat with Natsiq, sewing a _qulittaq._ “They wouldn’t be with us long, so talks with begin immediately.”

This had lead to the little trip they were on now. She had told Asiajuk she’d take Harry onto the mainland to camp and talk. “And if we catch any caribou, we will bring it back,” She had signed with a smile.

“Talk about what makes you happy,” He replied. She felt her blood run cold at that. She hated how it seemed like he could read her so easy. “I take what I said back. He seems good. That might work in his favour.”

It felt good to carry a sled behind her once again, she refused to let Harry help and instead instructed him to keep his eyes out for any game. His talking would scare any away, but she didn’t mind one bit. It wasn’t like that was the point. Besides, they wouldn’t be any game on the ice they were now crossing.

“We see the seal like us,” She told him. She didn’t like speaking full sentences with how her voice sounded, but she needed to get use to it till she could teach him the hand language. “It has spirit like us and we respect it.”

“Of course,” Harry replied. “That makes sense. I still love it though! Back home we are pickier about what meats we use.”

She hummed in return and he continued on talking about how they prepared their food. She found it interesting, but hard to grasp as some of the words began to get accented and harder to understand. She still smiled and nodded when he looked to her, excitement in his face. Her heart ached with adoration.

They were soon across the frozen strait and onto the mainland. Silna didn’t think twice about it as she stepped onto the land, but Harry stood put on the edge of where the ice and land meet, his boots sinking into the half-melted ice.

“This will be the first time in three years,” His voice was just above a whisper. “That I have been on proper land.”

He looked up from his boots to her with the smallest smile on his face. “It’s about time.” And he took a giant step onto the land, almost comical. She laughed at him and he chuckled in response.

She looked out to the land, not much of it changing from the island they were just on and yet it felt different with him here. He let out a loud yell and laughed manically before walking forward with a bounce in his step.

“Where shall we set up camp?” Silna smiled at his excitement.

“A little more walk.”

He nodded and walked ahead with her, taking the rope in his hand. She gave him a dirty look and tried to tug the rope out of his hand.

“Save that growler for someone else,” He said as he successfully tugged the rope out of her hand. “It’s your turn to look now.”

They didn’t walk too far south. They were already fairly far from the camp, and Silna didn’t want to go any further. In the North where the white men still were, the land barely had any moss of vegetation. Here though, colourful moss covered the ground and made walking easy. Harry had taken a handful of the moss when they finally stopped and examined it with his finger.

“Sir John Franklin apparently ate this during his failed overland expedition.”

Silna nodded and walked over to take the moss from his hand. “Make soup of it.”

“Is it good?”

She gave a soft chuckle. “Not much. Gather it. We have it tonight.”

Unloading the tent and setting up a small camp was easy work. Every so often she’d look up to see Harry examining something new or almost falling over on the wet ground. He eventually came running to her with soft berries in his hand. “Can we eat these?”

She shook her head, “Not ripe yet. Wait.”

He nodded enthusiastically and ran back off. She couldn’t help, but laugh at him, his excitement was overly endearing once again.

He eventually came back with a handful of moss, and yellow flowers. She was prepared to tell him what flowers they were, but instead he wandered up to her and pushed on of the flowers into braid below her right ear. She didn’t know how to react, her mouth popped openly slightly and felt herself blush. Harry blushed in return but gave her a smile before going to grab the bedding furs. Silna stayed put, too shocked to move. He really was making this hard for her.

Once out of her shock, camp was set up finally, with her creating a small pit with stones and Harry setting up the last of the tent. He watched her once he was done as she set up a small fire using a majority of the moss he collected.

“Heat the stone,” She explained. “Cook with no fire.”

He squatted down next to her and watched silently as she made the moss soup. She laughed when she handed him the small cup of it and the face he made when drank it.

“Disgusting,” was all he could offer before downing the rest of it. That made her laugh more.

There wasn’t more to do once they had supper, so Harry had left her to the camp to try and find more of the ‘soft flowers’ he had early. He wasn’t gone for long before he came back with a bunch of them.

“ _What are these,”_ He asked in her tongue. “ _They’re beautiful.”_

“ _Igutsat niqingit.”_ She replied, touching the soft yellow petals. There was a hint of pink on the edge of the petals. “No English name.”

“They look like poppies.” He said confidently. “I’m going to press them and give them to Jane when I get back home.”

“Jane?”

Harry’s eyes light up. “Jane is my sister. _Najak._ I’m the middlest of my family. There’s John, Joseph, Jane, Me, Agnes though she died, Robert and my baby brother Archibald.”

She tried repeating the names, which he would repeat again when she messed up. Eventually she got it right and he smiled.

“Jane likes flowers. She has a huge garden of them back home.”

She nodded and tried to imagine what a garden was. She didn’t like all these weird words the white men had, but this one sounded nice.

“Do you have siblings?” Harry asked, and she shook her head. “What about your mother?”

Again, she shook her head. “Mother gone. My father took me in when family gone.”

“Adopted you?” She didn’t understand the word and it must have shown on her face because he went on to clarify. “It means he took you in and raised you even though he wasn’t actually your father. Is that who he was?”

“Yes,” She positioned herself better on the ground. “Normal for _sixam iuena_. People who are shaman to Tuunbaq.”

“I see,” He went quiet fiddling with what he called poppies. “It’s amazing really. How little we know about the Tuunbaq despite the fact everything that has happened to us.”

They weren’t on the Island anymore, Tuunbaq was confined there. She had little fear of sharing what she knew.

“ _Our world was created by Sedna. She’s the one who guides our world. She became angry with the spirits of our world and created Tuunbaq to kill them. Sila, the Spirit of Air with the help of Naarjuk, the Spirit of Consciousness defeated the Tuunbaq after many many years.”_

Harry looked at her shocked, which she was not surprised. She had never really spoke of the Tuunbaq before, not like this. It was like her name, it was special to her and it belong to Tuunbaq too. On the Island she was at its mercy, but here she could share.

“ _Sedna knew she was in danger before even making Tuunbaq so she created a way to escape her punishment. She banished Tuunbaq to our land, and it killed us. It enjoyed our souls and flesh. We learned to contain it, the shamen sang to him and gave their voices up. From then on, we would go to the North and give him gifts and songs, but we would never be allowed to hunt his fish or caribou.”_

 _“It was protecting it’s land from us,”_ Harry asked, words sloppy, but better then they ever been. She shook her head.

“ _Tuunbaq is jealous, angry creature. He wants and does not give. He liked my father though. We knew one day invaders would come and ruin our peace with Tuunbaq. Father talked of it to me. When the first Pale Man was met we knew it would be you. We didn’t know it’d be like this.”_

She sighed heavily. It was a lot. “ _Tuunbaq may be jealous, but he is not stupid. If you had not killed my father, he may have been merciful with you. You are dumb men who did not know our rules.”_

Harry stared at her, worry written all across his face. “What about you? Why did Tuunbaq not listen to you?”

Silna didn’t know why. Maybe it was due to her already being swayed by these white men. Maybe it was because the Tuunbaq had never liked her. Or maybe it was destiny and bad luck rolled up into one. “I do not know. It is bad Tuunbaq not listen. _Asiajuk knows and I know Tuunbaq will continue to not listen and he knows this too. I will have to keep trying, but if I fail I maybe exiled._ ”

“What?” Harry leaned forward, a hint of anger in his tone. “Why? It’s not your fault?”

She shrugged. “How it is here. I am not first.”

Silna had never seen Harry angry before. She had seen him frustrated and upset, but never angry. It didn’t suit his face, but she had no fear knowing this anger wasn’t directed at him. “It’s not fair, you deserve better that? What will happen then? I-“

He stood up and paced about. Silna stayed seated, watching him as he tried to calm himself. “It’s not right,” He spat. He stopped eventually and all the anger in him seem to drain away. He looked to her apologetically. “Did we do this to you. Is this our fault?”

She shrugged again. She got up and walked to him, trying to keep emotionless. She put a hand on his shoulder. “This I wanted to talk to you about. I am not angry with you. You did not know. You know now.”

He refused to look her in the eyes, “Come with us then.”

Silna couldn’t respond. Her lips tightened, and she had to force herself not to shake. Harry looked back to her finally, eyes wet. “I can’t leave you alone. If you don’t want to come then, then I’ll stay with you.”

Keeping herself emotionless was impossible now, she looked at him with disgust and horror. How dare he suggest this. She had become convinced he would leave, that he could never stay and yet he offered it. “No.”

“Silna-“

“Never,” She said hard. “I bring you here to bring you home. You can’t-“

“I care about you too much to leave you like that-“

“No-“

He pushed her hand off him and grabbed her shoulders hard, she could feel his fingers well through her _qulittaq._ “If you asked me, I would follow you to the ends of the Earth. I’d stay here for you, with you. Anything for you.”

Her heart was hammering at this. He never offered these sorts of affections to her, the most he’d ever given was soft touches and smiles. When so long ago he had first offered to follow her, she could hardly believe her ears. He was shy, and she knew deep within he had some love for her as she did for him. Hearing this now was like a confession.

“Silna,” He continued, his voice choked with emotion and face red. “I would forsake everything for you. I came all this way not because I wanted to go home. It became that, but I did it because I couldn’t leave you. I just knew if I let you leave I’d never see you again. And that hurt me more than anything ever has. I _care_ so much for you. It hurts how much I lo-“

He stopped, his breathing hard. Silna stared at him, unable to reply. She wanted to say so much. She wanted to say she loved him too, didn’t he know? How often did she press her face to his in a _kunik_? Instead, tears pricked at her eyes and she was overwhelmed.

“Don’t do that,” She whispered. “I make up my mind I follow you now. What do you call home?”

Harry bite his lip and tears were forming in his eyes too. He tried to smile, but his emotions seemed to get the better of him.

“I can not live without you too,” She whispered again. “Why do you not know this?”

He let out what sounded like a sob and he pulled her into a huge hug, which she returned happily. She squeezed him tight to the point where she could feel her heart beat amplified. Her face rested in his shoulder and she eventually pressed her face into his neck, ignoring the scratch of his beard. He was shaking, and she could feel how he gripped hard onto her _qulittaq_. His breathing was still hard. They stood like that forever it felt like and Silna would be hard-pressed to pull away. He did though, and she felt the need to press into him again.

“Silna,” He whispered. His face was so close to her. She could easily count every freckle and make out ever strain of colour in his eyes, which seemed to be too green to be real. She was overwhelmed with the urge to press her face to his.

“Yes,” She whispered back, eyes wide.

“I love you.”

She swallowed hard. He made this so easy. “Asavakkit. I do too.”

He gave a soft huff and smiled. She didn’t give him time to do anything, before she pressed his nose against his and breathed deeply. A _kunik_ , though she starting to get the feeling these white men didn’t do this. She closed her eyes and stayed like that for a while and Harry pressed his forehead against her. They still held each other, her hands resting on his upper arms and him with his hands on her waist.

He blushed deeply suddenly and before Silna could ask he sputtered out, “Can I uh maybe can I kiss you?”

She furrowed her eyebrows unsure what he meant. He blushed even harder.

“It’s what we um do back in England when we like someone. Deeply.”

It clicked in her that this was their _kunik,_ though she was still unsure what it was. She nodded, and Harry swallowed hard. “Alright then, I need you to close your eyes.”

She listened and closed them. She could feel the heat of his body and how it got stronger as he pressed close to her again. Her eyes snapped open when she felt his lips against hers.

Once the shock washed away, she closed her eyes again and tried to focus on how it felt. Despite best efforts to keep hydrated, both their lips were chapped. The beard felt odd against her face and his nose pressed into her cheek. They were stagnated, no movement and before she knew it their lips were parted, and she was left confused.

“Is that alright?” He asked with a hush tone.

“Yes, do it again.” She couldn’t help but ask that. She wanted to feel it again.

He moved his left hand from her waist and cupped her face with it instead. She leaned into him, enjoying how it felt and shivered when he began to trace her cheekbone with his thumb. He leaned back in and she closed her eyes again, this time ready for the kiss.

It wasn’t like before, lips just on each other. He gave a quick peck, before letting his hand fall down to her neck and pull her in closer. She gasped when he moved his lips, making her own move too. It was odd feeling, more than before. Each movement he made to deepen the kiss was a little more wet than before, and Silna couldn’t help herself, but giggled. He laughed with her and gave one last peck on the lips before he started to pull away.

She didn’t let him. She was quick to take his face in her hands and push them back together, trying her hand at the kiss. Her didn’t protest and instead returned back her sloppy kisses with enthusiasm. She gasped though when she felt his tongue against her lower lip and she pulled away instinctively.

“Sorry,” He said. “Honestly I’m out of practice. The last girl I kissed was the baker’s daughter when I was 17.”

She barely understood what he meant by that, but laughed nonetheless and pulled back in.

Kissing was odd, but it felt good too. There was something about how physical is was that made her enjoy it, though she hated how sloppy and wet it would become the more unrestrained they got. And unrestrained they got. Eventually her arms where wrapped around his neck, his hands on her back pushing her in more. She didn’t shy away again when tongue came into play, instead she attempted to reciprocate it though she was sure it was bad. It suddenly was all passion and no thought.

Her whole body felt flushed and hot, it screaming for her to get closer and closer though there was no more room. He pulled away finally, peppering kisses onto her lip.

“More please,” she practically begged, as though her life depended on it. “Please.”

Something flashed in his eyes, not any sort of look he ever gave her before.

“Maybe it would be better if we were lying down.” He whispered and Silna had no hesitation when she practically dragged him into the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kimminnaq - Cranberries  
> Qulittaq - Caribou parka with fur outside (so think about the fur coat Silna wears)  
> Kunik - A way of expressing affection. Often between family or loved ones. It's an intimate greeting, but people do use it as a way of expression love and affection much like a kiss.  
> Asavakkit - A version of 'I love you' that's used as a response when first told 'I love you' by another.
> 
> The rating is about the change so just warning you guys there. Yeehaw.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Amazing, amazing, amazing.” She whispered over and over again. She leaned back down into the furs and he followed. She pressed into him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”
> 
> He kissed the top of her head, feeling a swirl of emotions in his chest. He couldn’t help the little tears that pricked at his eyes. “Of course. Of course. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS ONLY SMUT  
> If this isn't your thing, dont worry you can skip over this chapter and not miss a single plot point.
> 
> For those who do like this, I don't write smut often so please be gentle. I had to switch to Harry's narrative for this cause writing from Silna's was way too hard.

He was shaking so hard he was surprised his teeth weren’t chattering. Harry had next to no clue what he was doing. What he told Silna had been true, the last girl he had kissed was the baker’s daughter Peggy who had pushed him into hay during a summer festival when he was 17. That had been his first and last kiss.

When he had first pressed his lips to her, he had no idea what he should do. He thanked God that Silna had no clue what she was doing either otherwise she would see his juvenile efforts in seeming like he actually had a clue. So, he kissed and hoped that passion would trump skill. He had practically lost himself in her lips, with his arms around his neck and the small noises she made was like a heady wine, going straight to his head leaving him woozy and buzzed. He wanted closer and had to constrain himself when his hips wanted to act on their own and thrust forward. In the back of his head he felt shame, and worse shame when he realised he was growing hard at just this.

He pulled away, peppering little kisses on her lips, not really wanting to stop. He had to though, this was getting out of control and he needed to keep some composure. He was raised better than this.

“More please,” Silna whined. She was visibly shaking, and it sent a rush of arousal through him. Need was overtaking sense. “Please.”

Harry felt himself grow warm and imagined for a second her in a bed beneath him whining for him to keep going. How wonderful she’d sound as he made love to her.

Sense be damned. Etiquette be damned. He was only a man.

“Maybe it would be better if we were lying down.”

Her eyes widened, and she was quick to grab onto him and drag him to the tent. He was happy to comply. It was dark in there and there wasn’t much room to stand, but they paid little mind to this. The second he was in, Silna was on him again. He returned the kisses with fervor and desire, when their lips broke they breathed in time. It sent his thoughts to burn out and all that was left was this need to be touched.

They broke properly after what felt like an eternity, Silna’s lips were swollen and the poppy he had put in her hair earlier almost fallen out. There was a pregnant moment between them, something that hung thick as they took in the sight of each other. Harry could barely believe this was happening, that she reciprocated his feelings and that she wanted him.

That she loved him.

She said it after he had told her. He had told her, something he could barely admit to himself as it caused him embarrassment to think that he had let himself fallen in love. For how long did he deny himself any romance or be too oblivious to the advances of women? How many times had John, Edward, and even Joseph tease him about his lack of interest? Robert had been the worst of them all, the whore he was could scarcely believe Harry didn’t have similar desires. Of course he did, there were plenty of nights he slip his hands down into his drawers and pretend that it was someone else doing it. He just didn’t have time or energy to court, marry and fall in love. He just had no attraction for women back home. It took him getting lost in the most remote part of the world to finally feel this desire.

All it be damned, he’d do it all again for her. Silna made every heartache worth it all.

She reached forward and began to undo his jacket, and he was quick to help, ripping his scarf off and working at pulling off the jacket once she got the buttons done. He was breathing so hard he was sure he’d pass out, but at the same time he felt unnatural clear. The vests he wore were off in a quick motion and his suspenders were all but ripped off. He didn’t let her get to his shirt, before he was kissing her again.

He tugged at the bottom of his fur coat and broke the kiss quick. “This needs to come off.”

She smacked his hands away playfully and Harry laughed for half a second before his mouth went dry. The realisation she was wearing less layers than him and he could get her naked faster than he could get himself hit him like train. Once the coat was thrown aside, she placed a quick kiss on his nose before getting the fur trousers and boots off too.

“You too,” She said, pointed to his boots. “Off.”

“Trousers too?” He felt stupid for asking, but he wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get them off herself if he waited. She had enough trouble with buttons. She shrugged, and Harry got to work. Before he knew it, she was down to her parka and he was wearing only his shirt and drawers. He looked over her and then down to himself. His erection was obvious with his trousers off. It was a terrible time, but shame came back to him and he blushed hard. She gave him a puzzled looked.

“I’ve never done this before,” He whispered, embarrassed to admit it. “all of this… is very new to me. I don’t think I’ve been this… well undressed around a woman.”

She sighed and touched her hand to his face. He traced her hand with his fingers gently, enjoying the heat off her.

“You think I know too?” She laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips. The kiss wasn’t missing the passion from before, but it was more subdued and lazier. He felt at ease before he felt her free hand cup his groin. He gasped loud, the simple touch was enough to send a wave of arousal through him.

“Jesus Christ,” He hissed out. She looked up to him with a look asking for approval. He nodded quickly, and his knees almost gave out as she began to rub. It was overwhelming all too quickly and Harry became acutely aware that it had been months since he last touched himself. He felt strung tight and that he was ready to snap. Not actually something he wanted right now, but he hadn’t the heart to tell her stop.

She kissed him again, just quick pecks on his lips. He tried kissing back, but he felt like his head was dunked underwater. All his movements felt slowed and restrained. Silna then gave his cock a squeeze and his muffled hearing popped like he was suddenly brought back up to air. He squeaked in a poor attempt to hide his moan. She looked to him in shock and laughed softly when he smiled apologetically.

“I want this off too,” He said, tugging at her parka collar. She nodded and pulled away.

She was quick getting it off and his breath was sucked right out of him when he saw her bare flesh underneath. He barely had time to bask in her when she began to tug and pull at his shirt. He brought his hands above his head to help her, and with some awkward maneuvering and leaning over, she got the shirt off him. He looked up and brushed the hair out of his face to see her proper.

He felt terrible for staring, but she was incredibly beautiful; how could he help himself from doing so? He moved forward to touch her, but she put a hand up and pushed him away. He was left to watch as she tugged her pants off and step out of them. Harry thought his heart was about to explode.

He’d seen women nude before, except they’d been dead of course. It wasn’t exactly praised and talked about, but he had gotten chance to performing on female cadavers when he was a student, though for most of the dissection their most delicate parts had always been covered up. There was of course still respect in death. He had never really had a reaction to that anyways, Harry put professionalism above all us when he was to play the part of an anatomist. So, this was closer to when he caught one of the maids in just a slip, the shameful feeling of seeing a woman in a more intimate sense. He had blushed and sputtered out all apologies then, despite the ache in his chest.

This was beyond that tenfold minus the good-natured shame. She was beautiful beyond all words. He could blame his close inspection of her on his nature as anatomist, but honestly it was all to blame on shameless desire. Her skin looked soft with the glow of the light pouring in from the small flap in the tent. He stepped forward and brought his hand gently to her waist, the skin to skin contact shot through him like an electric shock, hitting him in the heart. She was so soft, yet firm in the most wonderful way. He traced his fingers from her waist, watching as she shivered, and brought his hand right under her breast. He brought his other hand up, and careful cupped both breasts.

“Wow,” Harry gasped. “Heavy.”

Silna laughed at that and Harry couldn’t help, but chuckle too. This was all surreal, what was the point of trying to remain serious? He squeezed and played with them, tracing his thumbs over her nipples. He still had no idea what he was doing, but this felt right. She would mewl and sigh ever so sweetly and he felt drunk. He let his hands fall away and traced his fingers to her shoulder blades, relishing the feel of her skin and the muscle beneath. He pushed her towards him, her breasts pushing against his chest. He shivered when she began to copy him and trailed her fingers across his shoulders and below his jaw. He wanted to kiss her again, but she turned her mouth away from him. Instead, Silna rest her hand right where his heart would be and pressed her face to his neck, kissing and sucking every so soften.

His knees gave for a second. She pressed one kiss right where his ear and jaw joined before looking to him. “Lay down now?”

“Yes,” He sigh. “Lay down now.”

He got down onto the furs, ready to take of drawers when Silna moved quickly on top of him, straddling his hips and pushed him to lay flat. Before he could say anything, she was kissing him again, with the urgency back and Harry melted into them. He practically lost his mind as she began to grind down on him. It was a clumsy movement, but it was enough for him.

“Oh god,” He choked out, his hand instinctively went to her thighs. His head lolled back, and he let himself fall onto the furs. “Jesus Christ.”

He barely paid attention when she placed her hands onto his shoulders and leaned forward to kiss him. He didn’t really realise that he was doing it, but he thrust back in rhythm with her, any thoughts of getting out of his drawers out of his mind. It all felt too good too fast and he was getting close to loosing control.

“Is Jesus Christ good,” She whispered against his lips, still close enough that they brushed against his.

“Yes,” He whined. “Oh my god yes.”

She pressed her forehead to his and he reach forward to try and steal more kisses, but every time he was able to deepen them it was interrupted by gasps of pleasure. It really was becoming too much, and Harry couldn’t say there was ever a time he had felt so good. Her moves got more confident and as they did, she thrusted on him harder and fast. His own had become sloppy and off rhythm the closer he got. She had by this point moved into a straighter position, one hand on his chest.

“S- fuck. Silna. I’m so-“ He was cut off by a pop of pleasure that rushed through him and he groaned loudly, no shame left in him to try and conceal it. “God don’t stop.”

Only a few short seconds and he was grabbing onto her thighs hard as he reached his climax, his ears ringing from the force behind it. He couldn’t keep back the low moan he let out, his teeth clenched hard and eyes squeezed shut. Silna collapsed onto him, her cheek pressing up against him. Harry was quick to put his hands onto her mid-back, pushing her in more and enjoying the contact. His heart was racing, and he felt horribly sweaty, but it brought it some comfort that she was just as bad.

It took was felt like an eternity before his breathing returned somewhat normal, though his head was still spinning. “My lord,” He finally whispered. “Amazing.”

She pulled up off of him and brushed the stray hairs out of her face. The poppy was long gone now, and her braids were about to fall apart. He was left breathless, she was beautiful with the gleam of sweat and the blush that seemed to cover her whole body.

“You’re amazing,” He breathed out. “Amazing.”

She smiled bashfully.

“Your turn though,” He gave her a mischievous smile. She cocked her head in confusion, but it turned quickly to surprise when he grabbed her and flipped her onto her back. She left out a laugh before he pressed his lips to hers.

He had no plans now of actually making love proper now. He blushed thinking about it, but he felt as though he had no stamina left in him, but he’d feel too guilty to leave it at his own pleasure. He still slipped off his drawers, not appreciating the sticky feeling he was becoming aware of in his groin area.

She positioned herself up onto her elbows and smiled at him. Silna gave a quick glance over his body, a look in her eyes that made him blush.

“Do you like?” He laughed. Her gaze was concentrated down on his cock and he had to fight the urge to cover himself. The grin on her face however was all that was needed, he blushed harder.

“Very hairy,” She said with a smirk, pressing one hand to his chest. “Harry is hairy.”

“Haha never heard that before, you’re very funny,” Harry teased her, but he couldn’t help, but chuckle at it. She bit her lip, a smile still on her face.

He touched his hand to her cheek and traced his thumb over her bottom lip. He felt his stomach tighten in the most delightful way when she kissed it, sucking ever so slightly.

He followed the tips of his fingers along her jaw and trailed them to her throat and then between her breast, carefully making his way to the apex between her legs. He was slow in doing so, enjoying every sigh he got out of her. She pressed her cheek into her shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and the blush on her face growing stronger. He teased, and instead of going straight for her sex he brought his hands along her thighs, dragging a strangled moan from her.

“Please,” She whined softly.

“Of course, sorry.” He whispered before moving his hand. He was careful in how his index and middle finger brushed over the little nub between her legs and looked up in surprised when she gasped hard. Now he was back to the beginning of not knowing anything which gave way to some hesitation in what to do.

He could distantly remember Robert talking about fingering some woman he’d met on the docks at the end of a work day and how he was stopped from going into graphic details by John who had gone crimson. He could also remember Robert then teasing John about sticking his fingers ‘in worse places’ or rather Mr. Edward Forbes doing it for him and the whole conversation turned into a struggle between the two brothers as John tried to hit him. Harry now wished he had brought Robert to the side later and asked how he had done it, but reality probably meant that he had spent the rest of his day dissecting crustacean. He could have used a lesson, even from his less than classy brother.

Obviously, he was doing something right, as when he began applying more attention to the spot she gasped and moaned louder. He marvelled at how wet she felt, and the thought that he was good enough to get her this aroused made him more confident. When she fell back properly onto the furs he grew cocky enough to slip his index finger into her.

She let out a strangle gasp and stiffened, Harry stopped. “Did that hurt.” Silna didn’t reply and instead shook her head.

He brought his attention back to his hands. Already she felt tight, but not painfully so. He tried taking in ever aspect of it, how soft she felt and how despite what doctors swore by there was nor barrier to be felt. He moved his finger slowly out, glancing up to her to see how she reacted. Her body relaxed some and she let out a sigh, and it was a good enough sign to slip his finger back in. He continued the pace, slowly picking up speed as she kept reacting positively. She moaned softly when he added in his middle finger gently. He enjoyed looking up to her, seeing her squirm and grab at her breasts or the furs below her. The noises she was making were absolutely delightful and Harry felt so powerful.

A thought crossed his mind and he curled his fingers slight. She moaned loudly. “Good.” Was all she could say when she caught Harry staring. “So good.”

He kept picking up pace and was fueled by how louder and stronger her moans and gasps got. He brought his thumb to the nub and clumsily tried to rub as he moved his fingers, hoping he was doing it right. By the way her thighs shook, and she gasped out something in Inuktitut he was more than confident he was doing this all right.

Soon enough he could feel her tighten against his fingers and she was crying out his name, strangled and desperate. She rocked against his fingers for a few short moments before trying to shut her legs. He took this as a cue to slip out. He was quick to go to her open arms and welcome the kisses she peppered all over his face, speaking quickly in her language to the point he could barely understand. The gist was that she was saying it was good and he couldn’t help but laugh softly. He returned each kiss that would pass by his lips and hugged her tightly.

“Amazing, amazing, amazing.” She whispered over and over again. She leaned back down into the furs and he followed. She pressed into him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head, feeling a swirl of emotions in his chest. He couldn’t help the little tears that pricked at his eyes. “Of course. Of course. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They laid like that for a while, though Silna wiggled about to try and get her head in a comfortable spot. Eventually, he moved so he was lying properly on his back, so she could plant her head onto his chest. Though they were completely nude, and no blanket covered them, no chill affected him, and it appeared the same for her. The tent had grown warm in their little tryst.

“Are you sure you want to come to Scotland with me,” He eventually asked. “You don’t have to.”

“My turn to follow,” She replied sleepily. “I don’t want to leave you. Not you to leave me.”

He smiled at that and planted another kiss to her hair. With the hand that she wasn’t practically lying on, he brought it to her upper arm and twirled little circles into her skin with his fingers. He shivered when she tried to do the same with the hand on his chest.

He felt perfectly content and his heart was near bursting with utter happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She nodded and tried to urge him on. He looked down to his feet instead, not a single word spoken. A minute passed, and he looked up to her again, and she could see there were little tears in his eyes.
> 
> “It shocks me how much it hurts to think of them.”

What didn’t confuse Silna was that she woke naked, but she had woken naked to an equally so Harry. She took it in for a moment, before what had happened the night before came rushing back all at once. She felt herself blush but pushed away any embarrassment she had. There should be no reason to be embarrassed, right? There was a slight chill in the tent now that wasn’t there when they had fallen asleep. She took the moment and grabbed furs to cover the two of them. Harry barely even stirred.

Silna watched him for a moment, taking in everything she could. Even in sleep he looked exhausted and the beard which was more uneven then anything else gave him a more haggard appearance. But he looked peaceful.

And she was going to stay with him. Silna had committed, saying it out loud had really taken away any doubts she had before. She was going to leave this place she had called home all these years, if they were successful.

They’d have to leave today; this excursion wasn’t supposed to be a several day thing and when they got back to the camp it would only be a matter of days before they would meet with the rest of the families. What if they said no? What if no help would come? What would Silna do then?

She loved him, and he loved her, that was now apparent and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to separate her from him now. Would he enjoy living out here? Would he resent her?

All her thoughts came to an end when Harry woke, opening his eyes slowly. Silna contemplated pretend to sleep, but instead she reached out and touched his cheek softly. He must have still been half asleep as the touch startled him, but he was quick to smile at her, softly and sleepily.

“Morning,” He whispered, an accent affecting his normal tone.

She said nothing in return and instead moved closer to him, before kissing his cheek. She liked this kissing thing, there was something more intimate to it than she had ever known. He moved his head to catch her lips, the kiss slow and lazy lacking all the passion that there had been last night but was replaced by something more affectionate. She broke the kiss and gave a quick peck on the tip of his nose before going back to cuddling him as she had before.

“We can lie here more,” Silna sighed. A part of here didn’t want to give this up, this perfect little moment.

-

“I wish you told me this sooner.”

Silna shrugged as best as she could considering that she was dragging the sled behind her. Harry gave a disgruntled noise, something like panic settling on his face.

“So I have a couple of days to figure out what to say and-“

“Don’t worry, Iqisulik.” The use of his nickname brought a small smile to his face, but his eyes still showed panic. “Don’t worry.”

“I can’t help but be nervous. I thought I’d have more time and now I have no time.”

“You had a uh… month to think things. Why are you like this?”

His turn to shrug now. He offered nothing else and fell silent, scarcely even looking at her. Could she blame him for being upset at this news? It was anxiety inducing even for her.

“I will help don’t worry,” She spoke cautiously, not sure if she should push.

“Thanks.” That was enough for her and they spent most of the trip back quiet. When they crossed the strait, he took his turn with the sled and Silna was quick to walk ahead. It was instilled in her to scour the land, it had been something she’d always done for her father when he would care to take her along up to the north. No matter what she said, she could never get Harry to do it as effectively as he preferred to stick by her and talk.

Instinct was over run by the want to get him to fill the silence she left. She did a quick scout out and made her way to him again.

“What is your home like,” She called out as she neared the sled. “Scotland yeah?”

He looked up to her, a spark of something in his eyes. “What do you want to know?”

She was now beside him, walking in stride with him. “What does it look like.”

“Well that depends on what part of my home you want to know. I lived in two separates places before coming here.”

She scoffed. “You’re hard.”

He smiled quickly, and she knew she won.

“When I take you to Scotland, we are going to go to my birthplace. Anstruther-Easter is where my father and sister are living now. It’s green beyond belief, and by this giant bit of water we call the Forth of Firth. It really is beautiful.”

He didn’t give her much to work from, but she tried to imagine it. “It’s warm there?”

“Warmer than it is here. I’m… more in the northern bit of Scotland. It always tends to be chilled during the winters, but summer is always nice.”

They fell silent again, Silna unsure how to continue. It didn’t seem as though she’d need to prompt him further.

“In the summer when I was younger I would go swimming in the waters and as I got older I began to study them instead. I… miss home.”

She nodded, trying to edge him on.  “The area is surrounded by farm land and such. The biggest appeal was the harbour, basically it’s a place where boats are stationed and built. You could walk out as far as you wanted onto it and you would barely be able to see the Isle of May. Just so much water. The house I grew up in, you could look out the bedroom window and see the harbour from it.” He sighed loudly.

“Sounds nice,” She replied, still having hard time picturing the place. “Family there?”

“Yeah. My family has called it home for about 90 years now. My mam is from Carnbee.”

Isle of May. Carnbee. It struck her with a warm feeling that one day she’d understand what these words meant and looked like proper.

“Mam?” She asked. This was a word she didn’t get at all.

“Mother.” The expression on his face changed, his mouth tightened, and it became very obvious this was a subject she shouldn’t touch.

“My mother is dead,” Silna tried to offer. “Gone.”

“Mine too,” He whispered. “Typhoid. About… 7 years now.”

She nodded, again unsure on how to proceed. She didn't know what typhoid was, but she could see that this was something terrible. She looked to him, a side eye glance and saw his mouth twitch as though he wanted to say more. The expression on his face though was one she didn’t like, this topic seemed to deeply affect him.

“No more on this,” Silna said soft and quick. “Other family. They are?” Her brain wasn’t moving fast enough, and she felt herself get lost between trying to speak English properly and translate the words in her head. It’d didn’t help that her mouth ached from the amount of talking she had done in the last two days.

He looked to her, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She sighed heavily, wishing now he knew the hand language. “They are?” The words gurgled more than usual as she tried finding a way to speak without aching. “Who? Tell me?”

He caught on quick not only to her meaning, but to the situation Silna now found herself in. “Sorry, please stop talking… I’ll do better.” He took a deep breath and licked his lips before continuing. “There’s John, my oldest brother. He’s currently in Edinburgh, the main city in Scotland. By the time we make it home I’m sure he’ll have a teaching position. Incredibly smart. He’s tall and gangly, and only look alike cause we both have these.” He took a hand off the rope and taped his nose quickly. “Big noses and black hair. That’s what my family is known for.”

For some reason, that struck her as hilarious. It didn’t help the tone he delivered it in, as though the whole thing was burden. She tried hiding the laugh but snorted instead which brought a smile to Harry’s face before he snickered as well.

“Glad you find that funny. There’s also Joseph, he’s like you in a sense. Very quiet, but passionate. He is like a shaman, our version of it anyways.” Harry stopped, and vacant look came over him, before he gave a little smile. “When we were younger we shared a room together. Use to make forts in our bedroom and mam would give us trouble for messing up the sheets.”

“Jane,” He continued on. “Well she’s definitely the smartest out of all of us, she’s so quick and even tempered. She loves flowers and other vegetation. She would have studied botany proper if universities let in women. Even without proper training, she's absolutely amazing. She and Edward Forbes, a friend of mine and John’s, use to write back and forth all the time about plants and such. She’s stubborn though, incredibly so to the point where I doubt she’d ever get married. No one would be able to handle her. I can scarely handle being around her, she teases me something wicked.”

“I like her,” Silna replied. Harry laugh.

“You definitely would. I think you’d get along with Robert and Archie well though. My younger brothers. Robert is, pardon my language, a real shit stirrer and Archie is the most gentle and tender thing.”

They were about over the strait now, almost onto ground once more. He paused causing her to stop as well in confusion. He looked around him, an expression on his face she couldn’t describe.

“Harry?” She asked tenderly.

His attention snapped back to her and looked to her apologetically. “Sorry… I was just hit by a thought.”

She cocked her head to the side and he gave a soft shrug. “I was just. Well. I lived with Archie and John back in Edinburgh before leaving. When Archie found out I was leaving, he got very chatty with me, asking me to do certain things and tell him everything I could. It’s the reason I’ve kept a journal so diligently. I want to tell him everything that happened here.”

She nodded and tried to urge him on. He looked down to his feet instead, not a single word spoken. A minute passed, and he looked up to her again, and she could see there were little tears in his eyes.

“It shocks me how much it hurts to think of them.”

They stood there for a while, looking at each other. Silna found herself at a loss of what to say or think. She missed her father; his ghost haunted her every thought in the most subtle of ways and the pain of his passing had only lessen so much. She had the privilege of knowing though that he was never coming back. That she would have to learn to move on. It was an empty comfort to a point, but a comfort nonetheless.

It made sense to her more than it had before why he was anxious. They didn’t do this right, he wasn’t going to see these people again, and these people weren’t going to know what happened to him. This was not just for his sake and for the others on this expedition, but for family as well. She tried imagine how it would have felt if she had never known what happened to her father, and it hit her that she did know this pain. She didn't know what had ever happened to her birth parents or the family she may have had. It had hurt her for some time when she had first learned, but still there was still that comfort that there was nothing she could do about it.

He had the choice to do so though, do something and yet it was still out of his control. She wanted to comfort him, to say something, by without a word, Harry moved on leaving Silna to wonder what was to become of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is most definitely the shortest chapter I've written and like it fucks me up why. Basically I lost around 8k of stuff after Word messed up and didnt save or recover the stuff I wrote. This chapter was originally 4+ cause a lot of stuff was suppose to happen, but it's been over a month and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer.
> 
> Things are about to pick up. A warning the mutilation tag is about to make sense


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mind went blank. How could he have been so stupid?
> 
> “Itialuit,” he said softly. Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter begins a little nsfw >;)))))))))))))

The hand signs didn’t come easy to Harry. The language felt more complicated than Inuktitut, but he kept at it, trying to memorise every hand flourish she had shown him.

Silna signed something quickly, but he he felt he understood what she had said. “Say to me in English.” She then said, her words were less guttural then they had been before. Her mastery over spoken words were coming back, and it was easy to see she was taking pride in it.

“The seal peeks out of the hole,” He said, cautiously. Silna smiled to him, the soft light from the burning oil illuminating her in the most pretty amber light. He found himself breathless for a second, overwhelmed by her.

“Now in Inuktitut.” She said softly. The corners of her mouth twitched, as though she was ready to laugh. He was self conscious about how he spoke her language now that he was learning he spoke it in a very choppy and haltering way to the point where the children in the camp thought it funny. When they had arrived back at the camp, his spirits had fallen considerably, but she hadn’t let him wallow in it and instead focused on trying to teach him further. Still, his lack of skill with the language did nothing for these fallen spirits

Teaching only happened when they were alone in the tent they had as she explained to him she couldn’t speak in front of any of her people. This he understood perfectly and loved this. Being alone with her now meant more then it had before.

“Puijik puik.... uhhhh silataani... aglo?” He bit his lip hard, knowing that he had messed up the words. So many different words for holes in the ice, one for seals and one for fish and so on. He wasn't sure he had the right words. She smiled at him, sympathetically and he knew he had messed up a great deal.

“ _I understood you,_ ” She switched to her language fast. “ _You speak like a white man. This is expected. Stop being hard on yourself. We've been speaking in English too much._ ”

 “Sorry,” He whispered. He looked down to his hands in his lap, feeling a quiet sense of shame fall over him. She had picked up English so much better than he was picking up Inuktitut and even though he had to basically speak it all the time while he was here, he still was terrible at it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see her shuffle closer to him. He scarcely jumped when she put her hand to his cheek and drew his head upwards. Again, he was blown away by how pretty Silna was. She smiled at him, something that was once rare that was becoming more and more common with every passing day. How many days had it been now since they first kissed? Since that night? It had to been at least 3 though it felt like an eternity and yet that urge to kiss and touch her hadn’t waned a bit.

She stroked his cheek with her thumb and he watched as her gaze went from his eyes to his lips. Unconsciously, he parted his lips and she leaned forward. It was lazy and slow, but it still sent heat rushing to the pit of his stomach. She placed her other hand to cup his face and he in return inched his hands forward to touch her lap. When his hands touched close high on her thighs, she broke the kiss for a moment to shuffle forward and straddling him proper. Before she went back in for a kiss, she touched her forehead to his.

“You’re doing fine,” She whispered, his breath tickling his face. “You are fine.”

He hummed and placed a quick peck to her lips. His eyes were shut, but he could imagine how she looked now, the soft glow over his face, the very subtle smile on her lips. He could feel her under his hands, how firm she felt and soft at the same time. They were barely wearing any layers. He had learned what she had been making since they arrived at camp, and it was a coat. He had taken off the two waistcoats he had worn to get the coat on properly, which Silna had stolen quickly. He had a spare shirt with him, which had to swap out old shirt for as it was worn so thin it was past saving. Silna had pulled it out and joked around with him about looking like a proper white men, flapping her arms to make the billowy sleeves move. They had laughed at it, and she hadn't taken off the shirt, which hung off her loosely. If he wanted to he could easily look down the shirt and see her breasts, but he had some manners not to. However this new attire of hers came in handy.

She smiled against his lips and pulled away. He opened his eyes in time to watch her pull the shirt over her head and despite his better nature he could himself get excited at the sight of her breasts. He could forget himself for a bit, and feel childish at this little romp.

“I feel more than fine looking at you,” He murmured. “Excellent actually.”

She smiled bashfully before taking one of his hands and placing it to her breast. He fondled it, playing with the nipple ever so slightly making her squeak a little. Before he could bring his other hand to her, Silna pushed him down onto the bedding.

Harry’s heart raced something fierce. In truth, they hadn’t gone as far as they had that night. The furthest had been the night they got back to the camp. When they were finally alone in the tent once more, they had practically bashed into each other. They kissed with such passion as though they would be pulled apart at any moment. He had snuck his hands into her trousers and played with her till she was crying his name as she pressed her face into his neck, but that had been that. She had fallen asleep not long after they had gotten undressed and Harry had taken that moment take care of himself. He was self-conscious of what had happened alone on the mainland, how he had spilled before there was even a chance to get out of his drawers and feared a return of that.

That fear is what made him bring a hand up to stop her. “I want to be fully naked before we do anything.”

She looked confused for half a second, but then nodded and got off of him. He felt oddly pulling off his clothes as she watched, but he tried not to linger on it too much. She was quick to kiss him again, with it picking up in intensity. Harry nearly choked when she put her hand onto his cock.

“Jesus-“ He hissed out, but before he could say anything further a voice called from outside. He couldn’t make out what it had said, but Silna’s attention was divided from him to the entrance of the tent.

“What,” He asked softly, touching her arm softly. Her head snapped back to him and the look on her face was stressed.

“They’re here,” She whispered. “Get clothes on. Now.”

He couldn’t help but slip a profanity as he hastily grabbed his drawers and pants. Any arousal was pushed away in a moment when he realised who “they” were. The last part of the group they were waiting on, decisions now had to be made.

Oh joy.

They had taken their time getting proper and he suddenly feared this new people taking it as a slightly. His nerves were frayed. Once they were both ready, and he had at least one of his waistcoats once more, they stepped out of the tent and into the bitter air.  One deep breath and it was like a punch to the lungs. The temperature itself wasn’t actually that chilly, summers in this area of the Arctic never proved so extremely cold as it’s winters, but it was the wind that brought chill. The midnight sun still was an issue, it was still considered early June by what he could remember, and this meant that soon they’d be getting their proper 24-hour day soon.

This also meant that even though it was 10 o’clock at night according to his still working pocket watch they could walk over to the larger tent with no artificial light to aid them. His heart was beating loud and his mind was racing.

Before they could even reach the tent, one of the men stepped out. Kenojuak he remembered his name was. It was one of the first things he had done when he had gotten to camp, learn their names. He was one of the men with Tuktu, though younger and not yet married. Harry had developed somewhat of a friendship with these people and Kenojuak in particular reminded him of Robert. Quick to joke and even quicker to laugh. He smiled at him which Harry returned easily.

“ _Finally, they’re here,_ ” Kenojuak said, his lips still quirked. “ _We’ll be getting rid of you soon enough._ ”

Silna shot him a dirty look, but Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

“ _Glad to be gone from you._ ” Harry said as he hit the other man’s shoulder. Kenojuak laughed at this, loud and full bodied.

“ _Don’t keep them waiting, Iqisulik. I think they just want to meet you._ ”

Hearing that took some of the anxiety away. No talking just greetings. Now that was something he could handle. He’d be charming, and they would like him; first impressions were always easy for him. As he entered the tent, he couldn’t help but look fondly back on when he had first met Sir John and Commander Fitzjames. He had been quick to his wit and tried to be as courteous as possible. Working at the Surgeon's Hall and the environment of the University required men to be witty and funny. He had mastered it quickly and could boast that he was more wittier than John at times. He had loved proving that to his soon to be Captain. They had liked that, though somewhere along the way Sir John had grown disdainful of him. Fitzjames had always been warm to him when the situation permitted it.

He snapped to present quickly. The tent they entered was the biggest one, a communal place where everyone would enter at the end of the day to be together. It was reminiscent of how his parents use to herd the children into the drawing room after dinner to just spend time together. Nothing too meaningful and yet it felt important. It was warm with the little fire burning and the amount of people here. Two families had joined them now in the time Harry had been here.

The first had come the day after he and Silna returned from the mainland. They were a small bunch, and the man who led them had been warm to Harry when he had learned he was what they called _Ânniasiutik._ He had taken a look at the man’s pregnant wife and had happy to say she was progressing well. The wife had told Harry she was taken care of by one of their midwives, but her husband worried over he constantly. The whole interaction had been sweet, and it had worked in his favour.

That man, Nanurjuk was sitting in the tent now and flashed a quick smile to him. Earlier that day he had pulled him aside and begun to talk about plans.

“ _I have two good men among my people who are more than happy to help you._ ” He had told Harry as he pulled him farther from the camp. “ _We need to get your people out of here one way or another. Tuunbaq will not leave us in peace until we at least try._ ”

Harry smiled back to him but did not focus his attention solely to this. There was Asiajuk and Yutu, who he knew was the man who led Tuktu’s people. Then there were the unfamiliar faces. Six people he didn’t recognise, with one who sat forward and appeared to be the one that was the leader. He had to remind himself that technically nobody led the families, but at the same time this person before him was the one that would make the decisions.

“ _You can sit by me_ ,” The woman said to him, gesturing beside her. Her words were slightly accented compared to the others he had spoken to, and sound something familiar to what Doctor MacDonald use to speak. _“I have not seen a Pale Man in a very long time._ ”

He nodded and walked right next to her before sitting. Closer up he could see she was older, though her hair remained mostly black. Her face showed the signs of windburn, but overall, she seemed unmarred and healthy.

 _“You have seen my people before?_ ” This was something new, he had never met another Netsilik who had seen someone like him before. He had been treated like an oddity, which he suppose was karma coming around to kick him.

“ _Once, though it was further into the main land. I was a young girl at the time and my family had been with some hunters who traded with the people you call Hudson Bay._ ”

He gasped at this. “ _Hudson Bay Company?_ ” He knew them, they were Canadian Traders who dealt with furs. He had a Hudson Bay beaver hat back home which had been a gift from Edward when he graduated from medicine.

She smiled. “ _Yes. I remember the men trade furs for metals. You look different than them though. I’ve never seen someone with such interesting eyes._ ”

He didn’t know how to respond to this, instead he looked away from her and blushed hard. She laughed at this. “ _How adorable!_ ”

“ _It is good we have you isn’t it? Nobody here has any experience with these white men_.” Nanurjuk said with a slight lilt, as though he found all of this hilarious. “ _As much as I’d love to make Iqisulik here squirm and blush we should be talking about what’s ahead.”_

Harry looked up then and watched as this woman’s expression went hard. A person from among her party spoke. “ _You are too quick. It seems impolite._ ”

“ _No_ ,” She said. “ _I see where our friend is coming from. We didn’t come here for good company, but rather cause of a little issue. Our friend to the North is making things hard for us and these white men have caused it._ ”

“ _I apologise for._ ” Harry said quickly. “ _If we knew we would not have stepped foot onto the land._ ”

She looked to him, a spark of amusement in her eyes. “ _I appreciate that, but what has been done is done. Now we must talk about what we must do with this problem._ ”

The tent grew very silent. Harry looked to Silna, who sat close to Asiajuk, a slight panic in her face.

“ _I have not introduced myself properly,_ ” The woman said suddenly, enough to cause Harry to jump. “ _I am Meriwa, I would like to know the name that was given to you not by us, but by your family._ ”

He knew what her named meant, thorn. It seemed to suit her well. “ _My name is Harry. Do you know the tradition white men name their child?_ ”

“ _I am not._ ”

“ _A name, another name and a family name. My full name is Harry Duncan Spens Goodsir._ ” He said with a smile. For some reason it felt good to say it, a reminder of who exactly he was. He was named after his uncle who had served in the War of 1812 and had unfortunately died before he was born. There was history right there in his name alone. Meriwa smiled to him as well.

“ _A long name, but you bear it with pride._ ” She gave a small laugh. “ _Well then, Harry Duncan Spens Goodsir, as long as your people are here the Tuunbaq will not rest and we will eventually be starved. You will be the death of us._ ”

It felt like a slap to hear that, she said it still with a smile on her face and some how it made it feel more hostile. She turned her attention away from him and then to Silna. “ _And you. If you had done your job right, then we wouldn’t be in this right now._ ”

Harry decided very quickly he didn’t like Meriwa as much as he thought. She was right, but how dare she say that to Silna. _How dare._ He had to clench his teeth to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.

Silna looked to Meriwa not with any shame, or really anything. She just stared back, a cold and stony expression that seemed to bring down the temperature of the tent. It was silent for a beat, before she continued on.

“ _I say let the Tuunbaq have his fun with the white men and once that is over, we send a proper Sixam Iuena once that is all over with._ ” She didn’t look at Harry and yet he could feel the pressure of her stare on him. Could he argue with what she said? They did cause problems here, but still he didn’t see it right to let that be a death penalty. The image on Silna’s dying father crossed his mind and he felt a great deal of shame.

Maybe they did deserve this. Yet he wanted to speak out, that these men had lives they wanted to get back to. They had names with history behind them, and people who would care if they never returned. That she was condemning him to death as he sat beside her. He had family and friends back home and studies he had to get back to. His life was meant something. And yet he stayed silent; staring forward hoping that someone would speak up for him.

Nanurjuk then filled the room with laughter. “ _Always so quick to such measures!_ ”

Her sharp gazes turned to him. “ _We can’t feed 30 or so white men. We will starve_.”

“ _It’s still dangerous keeping them here,_ ” He snipped. “ _If these men stay who knows how long they will continue to die. Starving to death is not quick and desperate men will do desperate things. You have heard from Asiajuk what has happened to Koveyook-_ “

“ _Yes,_ " Her tone changed to something harsh and Harry was now truly regretting sitting next to her. “ _These men killed our family without second thought and-_ “

“ _The man who did that-_ ” Harry found himself speaking without really actually thinking. The words came easier than they had come for a long time. “ _-_ _i_ _s not apart of us anymore. He was supposed to be killed for his action. But Tuunbaq interrupted before it could be-_ “

“ _So, killing for the killing of another is how you people handle things?_ ” Meriwa sneered and Harry felt his blood boil. He looked to her straight into the eye, not feeling that discomfort he normally got.

“ _Will you condemn dozens of men for the action of one monster? Men who have families, wives and children? That man killed two of our own too. He is not us._ ”

She said nothing in return but stared at him intensely. Courage and adrenaline coursed through his blood.

“ _So, ignoring the plight of men is how you hand things?_ ”

She did not react. A moment passed before she spoke. “ _You will not get help from me. If the people who travelled with me wish to help, they may. I will not encourage it._ ”

He squinted his eyes and bit his tongue. Not good. But at the same time, he didn’t want her help anyways, an insult on him he could handle, but her words about Silna rung in his head still. “ _If that’s what you want._ ”

“ _It is._ ”

The tent was silent once again, tension hanging. It was only broken by Asiajuk, who cleared his throat. “ _If that’s over with then I will say what I want._ ”

Everyone’s eyes went to the man, and Harry found himself almost instantly forgetting his anger to switch it out for anxiety.

“ _We can’t let these men stay here. We cannot let our people starve however. We are in a tricky place._ ” He paused and looked around. “ _We have to favour our people before his. They have invaded and disrupted the balance. Leaving them here would not help with the balance. It would be cruel not to lend a hand however. If anyone in my group wishes to help Iqisulik then I will not stop them._ ”

Asiajuk looked directly to Harry then, a small smile on his face. “ _You have been kind and open to our ways. I would go myself if I did not have a duty here. I know a few here would be happy to help you._ ”

He felt his heart race furiously and with the heat of the tent, Harry felt close to passing out for happiness alone. “ _I have been... honoured to be with you and your family. Thank you._ ”

Asiajuk smiled a little bigger and nodded. He looked to the next of him then, to Silna who seemed to be having trouble concealing her own smile. He seemed to want to say something, but with a quick shake of his head he looked over to Yutu. There was a sigh before he spoke.

“ _I agree with Meriwa on many things. We could risk starving. Here though, with the warm season we can hunt in ways we cannot when the water freezes. We could help these men now, while the weather is still good. I will not stop anyone who wants to help._ ”

Yutu barely finished when Nanurjuk spoke. “ _You know my answer white man. If my wife was not so close to birth, I’d go with you._ ”

Harry was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. They had no real reason to help, other than kindness and yet. Yet. YET!

“ _I- we don’t deserve this kindness._ ” He said after looking around the room with an open mouth. “ _I am sorry for what we have done, but this is beyond anything. When I make it home, I will never stop telling about the kindness I met here. Thank you. Thank you so much._ ”

He looked to Silna, who smiled to him. This was half the battle done, but he was going to live. And he was going to spend the rest of his life paying back to her what she had done.

“ _I suppose you will be going with him then,_ ” Asiajuk spoke up, making both Silna and Harry jump. She looked to him and nodded, saying something quickly with her hands.

“ _I am not surprised. Will we see you again?_ ”

She signed again. Harry knew what she said easily, that she was going to go across to the West with them and Asiajuk smiled. “ _Then we will give you several days to get ready and then we will say our goodbyes. I think your father would be proud._ ”

Silna turned away from him then, looking down to the ground a faint blush on her face.

She only glanced up briefly to look to Harry again; a small smile on her face.

-

Three days passed by fast, and Harry found himself weepy on the day when they were all prepared to leave. He said his goodbyes to the women he had grown close with and found himself almost sad to leave this all behind. In a weird way it had become a home. The first sense of home he had in nearly three years. He could only hope that they would find balance and peace again.

Taking down the tent was easy work, muscle memory taking play. Silna had held on when their hands had brushed as the organised the furs and wood onto the sled. She looked to him with excitement then, but when it came time to leave proper, she seemed sad. He had brushed his hand across her back which gained him an appreciative smile.

“I’m not regretting my choice,” She had whispered. “It’s hard though.”

“I know.” He said in return. “You’re braver than any person I’ve ever met.”

She had taken time after that to say her goodbyes, lingering with Asiajuk who had hugged her. She didn’t stop to speak with Harry as she walked passed him to the sled but had instead gestured to the man.

“ _Good luck to you Goodsir,_ ” Was all Asiajuk offered, the first time he had used his English name since they had met. “ _I hope you make it home._ ”

" _And I hope all will be well for you, and that you see a less harsh winter then we've had these last several years. Thank you again, for everything._ " Harry had held his hand out then, and Asiajuk looked down to it confused, before realising what he wanted. Harry wanted to slap himself for forgetting the Inuit didn’t do the same as his own people did, but hands clasped together, and a smile was given to him.

“ _Take good care of our Silna_.”

“ _Nothing less,_ ” Harry said with a smile. And that was that.

They left.

-

He was amazed by the men who had come along. It wasn’t a large party by any means, but it was something. Kenojuak was among them, he had been happy for an adventure and Harry had been happy to see Tuktu among the men who agreed to come along. Not counted himself and Silna, there were seven of them and they proved to be as knowledgeable in the land as Silna was. Not surprisingly, but it still was something of relief. He seemed more prone to worrying than usual, which had become teasing material among the men. He didn't mind it though, it seemed all good-natured then the teasing he had experience abroad Erebus.

Harry had explained to them in his improved Inuktitut the path that Captain Crozier had planned to take and then men had laughed at such a plan.

“ _Your man is not stupid_ ,” Tuktu had said once the laughter died down. “ _We laugh cause the way you talk all we see is inexperience men._ ”

“ _We are mostly like that,_ ” Harry said sheepishly. “ _But our Captain is not a fool._ ”

Tuktu had nodded at that, smiling wide. “ _He is still at a disadvantage if they can’t hunt. And he’s on a path that the caribou don’t go through._ ”

They followed the caribou, Harry amazed at how quickly they were able to pick up on traces of them. Travelling north proved easier than travelling south, though that could be accounted to better health. Two weeks had passed by fast, when one of the men spotted something on the horizon.

What he saw was a young man. Harry was glad to see that this man had spotted them and ran forward. As he got closer, he could see it was Thomas Armitage, one of the men Harry remembered was from Terror. Gun-room steward. He tried to remember when he had last seen the man, and if he had been sided with the Captain or Caulker Mate, but it was all a blank. What he did know was that he was happy to see a familiar face once more.

“Mr. Goodsir!” Armitage had called out as he ran closer to them. The party shuffled about, and by the looks on some of the men’s faces they were unsure if they should be cautious. Harry held out a hand to them to stay and walked forward to meet with the steward.

“It’s good to see you!” Harry said as when they were close enough. “How have you all fared?”

Armitage looked to him, hesitation plain on his face. He looked back to the Inuit and then to Harry. His eyebrows furrowed for a second before he responded.

“So, this is where you’ve been.”

Odd. Harry was sure that Crozier would have given reason for his absence and been honest in it. It didn’t seem in character for the man to lie over something like this, but he was sure there were reasons. He wasn't in any position to question his captain.

“The Captain didn’t tell you?” Harry looked back to the party as well, more specifically to Silna who he could see was glaring at Armitage. He looked back to the man and he felt awkward now.

“He didn’t say a thing. After that thing attacked us, and…. Hickey took off with some of our men we assumed you were with the mutineers.”

“So, there was a mutiny,” Harry gasped. “God help us.”

Armitage shrugged. “They… haven’t bothered the main party so I’m not too bothered. We make do. It’s good luck to see you though.”

“Oh? How so?”

Armitage turned to point out from the direction where he had come from. “About 3 miles out there we had a scouting party looking for leads, but one of our boys, Henry Lloyd hurt himself something bad when he slipped down a hill.” Armitage gave a quick laugh. “You see how this land is, loose rocks. Makes slipping and falling easy.”

Harry nodded. The scar over his eyebrow was proof to that Armitage's words were true. The fall must have been something to have to leave the injured alone and go for help. “I’ll come with you then. Let me just talk to our friends here and tell them to continue on.”

“Why are they here?” Armitage looked to them again, curiously. “You’d think they’d want nothing to do with us or kill us.”

Harry gave a quick laugh. Hickey’s rumours and lies really did get to the men. How unfortunate. He could only imagine how they'd be greeted at camp, though he was sure Crozier and Fitzjames could hold the men at bay. “No, the Inuit in this area are so few in between they don’t have time to wage war. I was among them for a while to try and get help at the Captain's orders. Si- Lady Silence helped me with it too. They were more than kind. They’re here to show us our way down out of King William. I actually stood on the mainland. We aren’t far, and they know the paths the caribou herd move in. We have real meat, not whatever Goldner canned.”

Armitage looked to Harry with shock and delight, but at the same time he looked so confused. As though something was bothering him. “So they’re here to save us?”

“Yes.”

Armitage looked away, biting his lip. He shook his head before talking. “You’re on the right path. Camp is set up just-” He pointed off in the direction they had been heading. “- that way. So close, Mr. Goodsir. They’ll make it there before we see the sun set. Dare say it's maybe a two hour walk still.”

Harry nodded, pride swelling in him. He could hear Captain Crozier telling him how good he had done, that he was proud of what he accomplished. He fulfilled his orders and they were going to live. To know they were so close effected him in a way akin to downing a whole glass of whisky. He felt giddy.

“Let me talk to them. Then I’ll tend to Mr. Lloyd.”

Armitage nodded, and Harry could feel his eyes on him as he walked to the party.

He explained quickly that they were close and that he had to go off to help out one of his crewmates. Henry Lloyd was one of the men he knew from Erebus, a Norwegian man about the same age as he. He could distantly remember treating him for minor rope burn back when they first entered into the Arctic properly. Was it really 3 years ago now?

The men agreed to go forward and seemed put at ease that there would be two men there capable of understanding them. He had no idea if Mr. Blanky had survived the attack, but somehow it seemed impossible that he could die. He was immortal in Harry's mind. Silna had in the course of the two weeks dropping her façade completely and spoke openly around the men. Why did it matter now that she was leaving? She said nothing as Harry explained what was going on. It was as the party continued to the direction Armitage pointed out, that Silna finally spoke as she refused to move.

“I will come with you,” She stated, her tone saying she would not be persuaded otherwise.

“No.” He was not going to listen to her without argument this time. “Go with them. Crozier will be put at ease to see your face and you can act as a translator now too.”

She squinted her eyes and he could see how tightly he jaw clenched together, but her face relaxed quickly. “Fine, but I don’t trust.” Silna nudged her head in Armitage’s direction. “Be safe, Iqisulik.”

He smiled and before he could speak, she said one more piece.

“Please Harry. Stay safe.”

How soft her voice went as she said his name made his insides melt. How badly he wanted to kiss her but didn’t dare with eyes on him.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He said gently, touching her shoulder in the process. “I adore you.You couldn't dare keep me away now.”

She gave a small smile. “ _Asavakkit._ ”

It was almost impossible to tear away from her, thankfully Silna was the one do it. He watched as she ran to catch up to the men and Harry turned to walk with Armitage.

There wasn't much talking. Harry tried getting information out of him, but he only got short replies as answers and eventually gave up. Barely an hour passed when Harry saw where he was being led. The sight of tents and people. He stomach twisted into knots, unsure if he had been tricked. This wasn't a scouting party for sure. When they stepped into the camp, his blood ran cold and he could feel his heartbeat so distinctly.

“Mr. Goodsir. How good it is to see you.” Another familiar face with a too familiar voice. The last he saw Mr. Hickey was at the gallows with a rope around his neck. It hurt him to see this man look so well with a smile on his face as though he was greeting an old friend. Harry looked about and saw other faces he had gotten to know so well. Hodgson was one face he didn’t expect to see, he had pegged the Englishman as a loyal and honourable man. When they met eyes, Hodgson looked away quickly, shame written clearly over his face.

His mind went blank. How could he have been so stupid?

“ _Itialuit,_ ” he said softly. Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asavakkit - Used as a response when told 'I love you'. Means I love you too.  
> Itialuit - Damn/Damn it/Damn you


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll not do this.” He said, placing the canvas bags onto the table behind him. This was the line now and it he was to hold his place. He tried thinking back onto famous Scots who stood their ground against England, Rome and the world, but all that came to mind was how ridiculous this was. This wasn't going to be a great battle that would be sung in great Gaelic songs, but Hickey's stupid little game.

Harry learned very quickly that Hickey ran the camp with an iron fist disguised as kindness. The men were afraid and seemed so willing to follow him no matter what he said; his confidence and optimism wasn’t infectious as it was drawing. These men were afraid and needed something to cling to.

So, they clinged to Hickey.

It was not a true peace, there was always an air of uncertainty and fear surrounding the men. He had been with them for nearly two and a half weeks now and it took everything in Harry not to scream out of frustration. Or to cry. Or breakdown. He felt at the verge of every emotional possible and it was tiring.

The second he had come to his senses after realised this was his reality now, he was quick to try to persuade. It had proven fruitless and lead to much of his frustrations.

“We have help,” He had pleaded to Hickey. “The Netsilik, they want to help us. We have men with us who know how to live off the land and how to get to the main land easier.”

Hickey had just stared him down as he said that, a smile on his face which for no discernible reason angered Harry. “You really expect us to believe that? Mr. Goodsir there is no game to hunt-“

“Well you’re a bigger fool than you look,” He snapped. “I’ve taken down some game myself. But of course, you know best. Some boy from Limerick knows better than everyone else. Of course, forgive me.”

The anger he let spill out surprised him. He swallowed hard, waiting for the expected slap. Nothing. Hickey just stared at him like he was judging how he’d take care of him. The stare reminded him so oddly of how John’s eagle would stare down the mice they left out for a meal. It unsettled him to say the least.

“Mr. Hickey. Take the help that’s given to you.”

There was murmurs around them, and Harry caught eyes again with Hodgson. His mouth was popped open in a small ‘o’ and his expression was pure hope. Harry hoped the rest of the men would feel this, that help wasn’t here but back where they left.

“You’re very close to Captain Crozier aren’t you, Mr. Goodsir?” Hickey asked casually, walking over to Tozer.

“I’m as close as my position allows it. He is not my friend.”

“How can we trust that what you say? A trap perhaps?” Hickey looked up to the sergeant. “We were set to hang at the gallows for wanting what was best for the rest of men. Crozier would have been happy to let us walk in ignorance? Not knowing that help was never coming? That Crozier would have easily abandoned us if Sir John hadn’t died? I suppose he had you keep secrets too, Mr. Goodsir.”

Every ‘Mr.’ made him rage, but he kept it down. “I do not understand what you are implying-“

“You knew the tins were poison.”

Oh, he could not deny that. He had practically begged to abandon them, but Crozier had been insistent on waiting. He understood why, but he hadn’t liked the answer anyways. Harry looked away from Hickey then, not feeling fit to lie.

“And a look that says everything.”

Hickey then turned to the rest of the men. “Mr. Goodsir is not here to help us in the way he thinks he will. We will find use for him in other ways, but do not be fooled by his words.”

He looked back up to the man to meet his intense stare. It felt reminiscent to when Hickey had tried schmoozing him for information so long ago. Harry knew what game this fool was playing, and the fool thought he was playing it well.

“Mr. Goodsir should be escorted to his new tent, and make sure you give him the chest we took when we left. He will treat any ailments that we have, and he will comply.”

“And if I don’t?” Harry felt a small rush of adrenaline. He was playing a dangerous game now, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t like they could kill him, this he was obvious of now.

“What parts do anatomists need? Anyone?” Hickey asked the men. Silence was all that was returned. “Please. A simple question.”

“Hands.” Des Voeux said. “He needs his fingers.”

“Thank you, Mr. Des Voeux! And what is Mr. Goodsir?”

“An anatomist,” Manson answered this time.

Hickey smiled to Harry, malicious. “An anatomist does need his hands, and so Mr. Goodsir needs to keep his hands and finger intact. Tell me Manson, what could Mr. Goodsir live without?”

“His toes,” Manson replied, meekly. “Cornelius you’re not- “

“Oh of course we aren’t going to maim Mr. Goodsir for asking a question. That’s not right. But a man must be punished if he doesn’t help out his fellow man. Does our anatomist understand that?”

He had gone cold at the thought of losing body parts. His mind had been quicker than Manson. Toes, noses, ears, bits of flesh here and there. His mind had even gone to even more delicate parts and he felt discomfort there. He only nodded in return and let himself be held hostage in a tent.

That had been seventeen days ago now. He felt secluded in a way he had never been before. When Stanley was alive (Harry found himself missing the man’s company now) he had known a loneliness he hadn’t ever known before. He was secluded in a way on HMS Erebus, not really fitting in with the officers, men or anywhere really. His skin constantly itched for the comfort of another, to be among men of his profession again; to be home in Edinburgh. He found himself missing his fellow colleagues from the Surgeon’s Hall, the professors he gotten to know well from the University, scientists he would dine with some nights after society meetings, and in a more childish sense his sweet mam. This loneliness was different. It was madness. He wanted to be with Silna more than anything else, he found himself praying for the first time in months that she had made it safety and that she stayed away. He clutched an imaginary rosary and went through every prayer he knew and hoped someone was listening. The only comfort he’d get now was that she lived. He couldn’t let her fall into Hickey’s hands again.

This loneliness was plagued by the fear of what Hickey wanted from him. Nothing had been asked of him yet, leading ever more to the boredom he faced when his anxiety and paranoia would quell. Harry had been blessed in the sense he had his journal still with him, as it had been stuffed into his coat, and that the chest Hickey had mentioned before had been his own medical chest. In it was another journal, one dedicated completely to his naturalist research, it’s binding old and nearly falling apart if it wasn’t for glue he had applied while still docked at Greenhithe. Stuffed in between the cover and beginning page were letters that he had taken off of Erebus with him, but this he had hidden carefully in the bottom of the chest. Some of the notes he would reread in those long nights after hauling and hit him with nostalgia. When he came across a certain note of crustacea and the structure of their reproductive systems he found himself back in his flat on Lothian Street with John laughing over a very rough draft of John’s book where Harry had made vulgar notes to the chapter about crustacean secretions. That world was thousands of miles away and knowing so ached him. He had wondered what John was doing, if he was happy, and if his book, Anatomical and Pathological Observations, had sold well.

They didn’t stay camped long, they moved with the main camp; scouting would come back and tell how far they were from Crozier’s band and how they would proceed. Harry was forced to sledge as well, and as he did so he became acutely aware of the weakness still in him.

On day seventeen, once camp had been set up, Harry had not been sent away into the tent immediately but made to sit with them. He opted to sit by the tent instead, eyeing Hickey warily every so often. Sometimes he’d catch eyes with Tozer or other men in the camp. Mr. Diggle looked to him with pity, Pilkington was unsure, and Des Voeux with that same contempt he had always had. There were times when the men would seem to want to approach him but seemed afraid to do so, as they had been for the sixteen or so odd days. This he didn’t know how to feel about. A part of him hoped they had believed the truth he gave, but at the same time he was unsure. It was as he ate away at the tinned meal on his plate, tasting off and gross after over a month of eating fresh meat, when he was finally approached.

William Gibson looked like a corpse of a man, so different from the man Harry had first met in 1845. He had limped over to Harry, as though his legs and hips refused to work.

“Doctor,” He said only loud enough to be heard over the wind. “Could you take a look at me?”

There was once a time when he had excitedly jumped at the idea of tending to a patient. He enjoyed this part of the job, but now felt only dread at the idea. A quick ‘yeah’ and he led Gibson into the tent.

It seemed to be always windy, and the tent he had was not in the best shape. He supposes there was a kindness in being allowed a tent to himself, but a part of him felt it wasn’t done in kindness. Everything felt to have an ulterior motive. This felt to be an ulterior motive. He was getting paranoid and in paranoia he felt no kindness.

He got to work, a routine he once knew so well. He opened his medical chest and pulled out certain cures, used to ease aches. He then took a crate, it’s wood splintering and falling apart, and set it in the middle of his station. He waved to Gibson to sit, and he did so. He wobbled with every movement and sitting seemed to be a painful task. He felt a twinge of pity as he heard him gasp in pain, but he pushed that away. Harry was a doctor, doctors treat their patients with little emotion or pity. Taking a page from Dr. Stanley’s book it seemed, that man had always treated his job as a chore in the worst way.

Harry knew what was bothering Gibson, the same thing that was bothering the rest of them. He moved his arms, his legs, and so on, checking how his joints moved and how he reacted. He reacted terribly, each movement earned him a winch of pain and a soft cry. When he moved to check the neck, Gibson finally spoke.

“I only hauled part of the day. My knees...” He haltered as Harry moved his head. “f-feel like they got… glass in them.”

He took no time to reply, not worrying about comforts and sympathies. “It will get worse, this.” He looked directly to Gibson now, taking in how utterly ruined the man looked. There seemed to be an unusual swelling under his right eye, to the tissues. His mind went to milia or syringomas, but he remembered from his studies that when eye tissue becomes weakened it leds to the appearance of swelling. This is what led to the appearance of what people referred to as eye bags. His cheekbones showed signs of swelling as well, his skin itself becoming yellow with jaundice. There were dried bits of blood by his nose, under his eyes and in his beard. William Gibson never was a handsome man, not to Harry at least, but he had been healthy and strong. Now he looked like a man fit for death. And that he was. There was no uncertainty in it.

He moved to his table, if he could really call it that and leaned against it when Gibson asked, “How? For what should I prepare?”

“To die, Mr. Gibson,” No comfort. Just a simple fact. “As all you joints will soon feel as if they are full of glass.”

Gibson stared at him, blankly, as though he couldn’t take in this information. This did not stop Harry from continuing. He looked away, trying to remember various joints on the body. “Elbows, neck. Your knuckles.” He looked back to Gibson, still vacant. “The little joints in your toes. Oh, and your hips! I expect that will stop you from sleeping the moment it begins.” He could not keep the contempt out of his voice. A part of him wanted him to say ‘this is what you get this is what you deserve’ and he knew it wasn’t far from the truth. They had been the ones so sure that mutiny would be their salvation and had put others at risk with it. He could easily say two men were directly dead thanks to this. It was cruel, he knew, but a part of him didn’t care and he languished in apathy.

Gibson still stared at him with no real expression, and Harry began to feel the weight of what he said. It was cruel and now he was caring. He hated this swinging of emotions, of being able to let himself care, or rather being forced to by what conscious was still there. Before he could even think about feeling guilty, the sound of footsteps approached the tent. Harry knew who it was before Hickey appeared at the opening of the tent. Gibson reacted to him entering, looking away from Harry finally with something like fear starting to dawn on his face. He wasn’t a fool not to see over the course of these weeks that Hickey had some sort of relationship with the man. He was reminded a little by that reaction, how his mother had broken the news to all of them she was dying. Fear of saying it out loud. Fear that saying it would cement its existence.

He had plenty of time, but no patience to deal with Hickey and his weaselly words. He could see how this would play out already, the faux sympathy, the comfort, the planning of accommodating poor Mr. Gibson, while Hickey would plan to leave him to die the second he could no longer walk. He could survive another month or so before his heart would finally give, but with Hickey as their leader Gibson had several days at best. Knowing this really made him want to kick the man out of tent.

He moved from the table and made his way to sit on the bed. At least if he had to deal with the Caulker’s Mate, he would do so resting his aching legs. He deserved that much. He watched Hickey came into the tent, stepping gingerly to where Gibson sat. He reached out to touch the man’s shoulders and kneel before him. He then touched both his hands softly to Gibson and spoke.

“Are you not feeling well, Billy?” He asked, soft, but lacking any real concern. Gibson locked eyes with Harry then, fear gone and acceptance in them. Oh, he would give him credit where it was due. He was handling himself fairly well for a man told he was going to die in the most terrible way possible.

He looked down to Hickey, appearing as though he was chewing on his words. “It’s in my knees a bit.” His voice was scarcely above a whisper. Hickey in response brought his hand to his knee, squeezing it ever so slightly. Gibson’s face was concealed to Harry, but he could imagine he was making a pained expression by the soft moan that he let loose. Hickey then turned to look to Harry.

“Can he still haul tomorrow?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed, but eyes clear and sharp. So, this is where the accommodating part came in. He really didn’t like being a part of this.

“I’d be very surprised.” He refused to give a yes or no answer. Be vague. Don’t be helpful. Don’t overdo it or else say goodbye to a toe, or nose, or ear, or something else that shouldn’t be thought of. It was obvious Gibson didn’t like that answer, his reaction was to shake his head and his breathing got a little more laboured.

“I can… I can….”

“Hey,” Hickey turned his attention back to him, putting his hand onto Gibson’s chest. “Be calm, Billy. Be calm.” He then brought his hand from the chest to the cheek, cradling his face as Gibson shook his head, moaning so softly. “We’ll make the best of a bad situation. Like we always have.”

Gibson’s head dropped then, and Hickey placed his hand to his chin, bring his face up. They looked at each other for a moment, before Hickey stood up, with Gibson clinging to his coat. When Hickey was gone from the tent finally, Harry made his way back to his table, to the medicines. He swore once in the words of Hippocrates ‘either help or do not harm the patient’ and he felt compelled to keep this up. He felt contradictive, make the patient feel horrible about themselves, but relieve their pain. He was thankful Professor Knox, or his father couldn’t see the hack job he was doing now. He knew his father would think of some creative way to call him a poor excuse of a doctor, though he wasn’t sure that by this point he had peat moss instead of brain. He was so lost in his thoughts, he almost jumped when Gibson spoke up.

“I wouldn’t either, Doctor.”

Harry turned to look to him. “What’s that, Mr. Gibson.”

There was no blankness or fear in his face now, he looked to Harry with understand. “Comfort us. Any of us.”

Harry really hated hearing that, he felt pity pierce his heart. He said that he should not comfort them, but those words had the opposite effect. He suddenly wanted to. Harry looked away for a second, as Hickey entered the tent again and, in that moment, there was a harsh sound of a knife digging into flesh. Gibson cried out, and it took a moment for him to realise that he had been stabbed. And by Hickey. He dropped what he was holding and rushed to his side, trying to pull the man off of him. It was futile, he hadn’t the strength to do so, but he kept trying and failing. He was face to face with Gibson in his attempt; his face rung up in pain and his struggling getting weaker by every fraction of a second. There was no screaming, but silence. And in that silence Harry could not begin to actually comprehend that **_this_ ** was happening. Those seconds felt to drag on before Gibson’s body went limp and his eyes unseeing.

Dead and gone.

 He continued to hold onto to him, and he brought a hand to his cheek, the same one Hickey had touched before. A simple comfort he could not feel. It was horrifying in such a way that Harry felt himself completely numb. He cradled his limp head and looked to Hickey. The intensity in his eyes would have been enough to scare him any other time, but he felt so tired. He wanted to say, he couldn’t believe what had happened, but this was the same man who had killed and mutilated Lt. Irving.

He turned away from the body, from Mr. Hickey, and felt himself shake. He scarcely moved when Hickey called out for Sgt. Tozer to come help him, and he offered no help when Tozer came in with Des Voeux and they struggled to take the body out of the tent.

He was alone after a while, still shaking, hand clasped to his mouth to try and stop the sobs that were coming out. It hit him that he was going to die out here. He wasn’t going home.

When he finally got the strength to move again, his first action was to take the crate Gibson had sat on out of the tent. He didn’t stay out long, and he didn’t take a moment to look to the men who were huddled around talking. He retreated in. He put the medicine bottles back into their place, taking his time to arrange them so the fading labels would face outwards proper and straight. Anything to keep his mind off of Gibson’s eyes boring into his own as he died. To forget how it felt to have someone murdered and die against your body. His mind slipped for a moment, retreating to a memory. How good it felt to fall onto Silna and hold her after their tryst, her whispering amazing over and over again.

He could feel tears prick his eyes again and he couldn’t continue on any more, not physically nor emotionally. He pulled off his boots and took off his jacket. They were thrown haphazardly onto the ground and he fell onto the bed. When he had gotten the blanket covered him, he broke and cried. He didn’t want this, he was tired of seeing people dying. Gore ripped apart, Silna’s father dying despite his efforts, Bryant decapitated by Tuunbaq as they stood in the blind, Sir John’s leg before him, Stanley setting himself on fire, MacDonald gutted, Peddie burned, Morfin shot and Gibson stabbed. He wept as these images flashed before his eyes.

He wished that Silna was there then, to hold him once more as he cried. He just wanted someone to comfort him as he fell asleep.

-

_The dissection went well. He was months away from graduating and everything felt in the bag for him. He was guaranteed to pass with honours and he had nothing but confidence. Anatomists were needed and even if that didn’t work out, he had his research in naturalism and his father who’d let him work with him as a physician. Harry was confident in every stroke of the knife._

_“Excellent cut,” The observing doctor said. It was him and two other students. The doctor, none other than Robert Knox. How infamous he had gotten after the body snatchers incident and still he was the best out there if you wanted a teacher. Harry counted himself lucky to gain favouritism from him._

_“Thank you,” He replied, as he moved around the organs. “I don’t think I’ll need to look further. The lungs look consumptive.”_

_“Open the bowels.”_

_The voice. It wasn’t Knox’s. Harry looked up from the body to see he was not in the operating hall, but back on Erebus, in the sickbay. And there stood Stanley, burnt and ruined. Harry jumped back, dropping his scalpel in the process. His mind froze, but his body moved. He ran out of the sickbay, slamming the sliding door open to be met with a different room._

_The room was bright, windows decorating every wall. The fireplace was going too, with the easel nearby it. Comfy furniture and a well-worn carpet. On the wall a painting of his mother commissioned before he was even born. The drawing room at Rosebank. Home. He stepped forward, seeing someone sit in one of the couches by the fireplace, and as he grew closer, he could see it was his father. Overwhelming joy hit him. He wanted to reach out and touch him or cry into him, but the fireplace grew too hot. And the room was ablaze, the sounds of his screaming shipmates around him. He held Silna in his arms, stinking of blood. He tried to pull her up and away, but she was so heavy._

_He could feel the flames nip at his legs._

_As he carried her out into the cold air, he saw no one had joined. He looked around and saw nothing, no tent and no ship. Just an endless expanse of ice. His face burned and ached, his tongue felt heavy and all he wanted to do was lie in the snow. But Silna. He had to take care of Silna._

_Then suddenly there was a growl behind him. As he turned, he saw Tuunbaq. Grotesque and too human. It raised one claw up high._

_-_

They hauled the next day, wrapping Gibson’s body up and placing it in the boat. Harry felt all eyes on him as he slipped the leather harness over his shoulder. It was unnerving. There was no comment made to him, no inquiry as to what had transpired in the tent. Why should there be when it was obvious what happened? He was glad for this. He didn’t want to talk about what happened or even think about it. Hauling for hours though, with no conversation did no wonders for his thoughts. He tried to seek refuge in thoughts he often found comforting; days on the beaches by Cellardyke with Robert, dredging in Orkney in John and Edward, the day he found out he had passed all his final classes with exemplary marks, nights in the orlop with Silna, his last dinner with family.

These thoughts were interrupted by the image of Gibson dying in his arms. Eventually hauling was interrupted as well, scouting coming back. Armitage and Tozer.

“They’ve made camp again.” Tozer said as he walked up to Hickey. “About six miles away. There was a friendly face among them.”

They walked away from the now stationary boat, to the point Harry could not eavesdrop, so he followed suit as the others did. Take off the harness and begin setting up camp. Chatter was a welcomed thing to hear, even if it was discussions on who was to do what. He idled around the boat, unsure as to what to do.

An hour later, with most of the tents set, he was now idling again, but in his tent. He’d rearrange things in an attempt to keep him busy. Place a pitcher here, put an empty jar here, leaf through the journal a little before organising the chest. Little things. His mind would slip a little, this he owed to lack of sleep. He didn’t want to think on the nightmare from the night before, which he had woken from in a cold sweat. He was also sure that crying as much as he did was not sure to help his sorry state.

His mind was given no chance to slip anymore, when Manson entered the tent, with the body in his arms. Harry only watched in horror as this was set down on a table.

“Mr. Hickey told me I was to bring him to you.” Manson said, turning to him.

“Why?”

Manson shrugged and left the tent with no further words. Not long after, Tozer entered, with canvas bags in his hands. Without word he handed them to Harry, and he cautiously took them, unsure still where this was going.

“We need you to… to cut up Mr. Gibson.” Tozer explained, something in his expression showed he was hesitant. Something was not right here. Harry looked from the bags in his hands to the sergeant, when it dawned on him. So, this is why they needed an anatomist. He didn’t say anything in return, he just stared, trying to really comprehend what was going on. This couldn’t be reality. This would be a mortal sin wouldn’t it? Being an anatomist for the sake of study and education wasn’t exactly praised, his own brother who was zealous in his faith had his own qualms about what Harry did, but this. This was a new level. Cut up a man and let him be eaten. He was not a butcher. No, he wouldn’t do this.

Eventually, Hickey entered the tent too. Entered is a gentle word. He stepped in and immediately the air changed. He looked over Tozer quickly. “Stay here, sergeant.” He said, almost exasperated. His attention then turned to Harry. He smiled at him and Harry felt his stomach turn. “Mr. Goodsir,” was said to him with a delighted whisper as Hickey walked passed him and made himself comfortable on the bedding.

If he didn’t have patience for Hickey the last time he had entered his tent, then now he was now in the red.

“I’ll not do this.” He said, placing the canvas bags onto the table behind him. This was the line now and he was to hold his place. He tried thinking back onto famous Scots who stood their ground against England, Rome and the world, but all that came to mind was how ridiculous this was. This wasn't going to be a great battle that would be sung in great Gaelic songs, but Hickey's stupid little game.

“It’s why you were brought.” Hickey said. “You’re an anatomist. You’ve-" He made a gestured with his hand "-cut up more bodies than you can probably now remember.”

He didn’t know the exact number, but he wasn’t giving Hickey any satisfaction. “Twenty. I’ve performed on twenty.”

Hickey smiled at him, looking at him as though he was trying to read him. Harry took extra care to watch his expressions. “Why?”

Why? Easy. Education mainly. Learning how the body worked was key in learning how to cure it from its maladies.

“And don’t say ‘for my education’.” Harry just stared at him blankly when Hickey said that. Damn him. “You did so for the greater benefit of others.” That was true. “For the sick. For the dying.” This was definitely a trap. Every word Hickey said was true, yes, but he knew the intention behind them. Good words and bad intentions did not mix well.

“In the hopes of helping them.” Now he couldn’t help, but nod to that. “That’s exactly where we are now,” Hickey finished, his smile gone and expression serious. No matter what he said, he could not be persuaded. Not after everything he’s seen.

Once he would say that he, Henry Duncan Spens Goodsir was a man who always seemed to have words to speak and proper reactions to give, that this he was well practised in. That was until Hickey decided to murder Lt. Irving and Mr. Farr, resulting in the deaths of Inuit people including a child. This had led to who he had known as Lady Silence to be turned away, and for himself to follow her down a land so wide and seemingly savage to get help and go home. And now here he was with his efforts destroyed and his heart full of anger, and he didn’t want to give proper words or reactions. He wanted to speak his mind.

“You’ve murdered this man… whom you know wish to eat and you are unwilling to butcher his flesh yourself.” He wanted to rage, but somehow, he kept his tone clear and steady. “But you will have to.”

“We do not know which parts-“

“Yes, you do. Of course, you do.” He wasn’t playing Hickey’s game no longer. He stepped forward to him, a small smile on his face. He leaned forward a little, as though this action could intimidate the man. “If-if I’m reading right your accent, Mr. Hickey, you grew up in a home where you’d have to use every part of meat or fowl your mam could procure.”

Hickey’s face changed there, ever so slightly. The smile was there of course, but something dangerous flashed in his eyes, but he was beyond caring.

“So,” He continued. “If you want to eat 'your friend _'…_ you’re have to cut into yourself.” Harry gave a quick smile. “Do not ask me again.”

Hickey didn’t seem to falter; his smile never left his face when he spoke again. “I am now deciding… which parts of Lieutenant Hodgson… I will cut into first, for every hour you refuse to apply yourself to this.”

Oh, now this was an interesting move. His anger was still there, but the better part of his nature cried out to stop being stubborn. Gibson was dead, but he could prevent the same from happening to Hodgson.

“You will stand apart no longer,” He said with a smirk. Harry walked away then, the reality of what was at stake now setting in. “And let me give you some advice.” Hickey added when Harry had made it to the point where had stood before. “Don’t indulge your morals over your practical. Not now.”

It was sound advice, and he was taking it to heart. Not how Hickey wanted it he was sure, but he was taking it.

“Don’t you also want to live?”

No.

Maybe.

He could say he wanted to live for Silna, but that wasn’t within reach now. He was sure he was going to die here. There was no way he was making it out of this camp alive. He wanted to live for the sake of being afraid of dying, but that was coming either way wasn’t it?

So, no, he didn’t want to live.

Hickey got up from the bedding and made his way over to Harry, getting right in his face. He looked away from the man, and he felt his anger turn into something else, something without a name. Something reckless.

“Sit with it an hour-“

“No.”

Harry looked to Hickey now and he saw that smile drop.

“I beg your pardon.”

Harry smiled softly. “Mr. Hickey, you do realise, that no matter what you threaten I shall not take it seriously. You fear another mutiny, don’t you? Do you really think yourself infallible?”

Hickey opened his mouth to speak, but Harry was faster. “Don’t answer that, Mr. Hickey. I do not care for the lies you call answers. Know this, I will never serve your purpose in dissecting any man you bring before me. Cut up Hodgson, you will have no proper reason to do so for I won’t help you make a meal of him and I shall be the first to cut you down when the men no longer play into your game of fear.”

Oh, now he began to faltered. Hickey said nothing but watched him.

“My morals are gone, Mr. Hickey. I still have common sense though, and my practicals as you so put it. It would not work in my favour to indulge my practicals for you.”

They stood off, a pregnant moment that hung heavy as Hickey seemed to decide what to do. After that moment, he turned to Tozer. “I made a promise once, didn’t I? What happens to a man who doesn’t help his fellow man?”

Tozer nodded. When Hickey turned back to Harry, there was a moment where their eyes met, and he expression was worried anticipation. Hickey stared into his eyes with that dangerous look when he addressed Tozer once more. “Help Mr. Goodsir outside.”

When Hickey left the tent, Tozer stepped forward, ready to manhandle him and escort him out. Harry moved aside from his hands though. “I can walk on my own, thank you.”

So, he stepped outside, the light blinding him almost. He knew what was coming, and he was afraid, but he stepped confidentially. In the middle of the camp, there sat the table and the oven. Most of the men had congregated here naturally and Hickey stood before them now. Seeing that Harry was there with them, he smiled.

“I don’t think myself cruel.” Hickey began. “I do what is necessary. It hurts to know Gibson is gone, but his body is what will keep us living. Our food is poisoned, and we must do what we need to do to survive. We are not the first to turn to this method.”

He pointed Harry. “I said that I would not maim you for asking questions. I did say I would punish you for not helping us. Tell the camp what you’ve done, what you’re condemning them to.”

Harry wanted so badly to smile, but he just stared at Hickey. This seemed to irk him.

“Mr. Goodsir refuses to help us with the meat we need to survive." Hickey said loudly. "So, what part of him shall he lose?”

There is was. He prayed that he would keep his toes in tact at least. It would be painful, and it would be hell trying to heal whatever wound was inflicted, but he had set a standard and he needed to keep to it. This was what he was going to die defending.

“Perhaps some toes,” Hickey suggested. The men seemed to stare at him in anticipation or pity. “Well? I would like to decide with you?”

“Ear.” Hodgson said, standing up. Harry looked to him, shocked. He had supposed that maybe Hodgson would be the least likely to join in, and yet. “He needs to help us haul and he can’t if his feet are hurt.”

Hickey nodded. “Smart thinking, this is why you are lieutenant right? Well then, Sergeant, helping Mr. Goodsir to his knees and hold him. No wait. Manson you do it. You’re stronger.”

Manson stepped forward, but it was obvious he didn’t want to do it. As he passed by Hickey, he seemed to whisper something to him, but Hickey patted his arm. “This will hurt him less than if we lashed him. You remember how much that hurt don’t you. It’s a mercy I’m giving him now.”

Manson nodded and moved forward again. Harry didn’t wait for hands to be upon him, he dropped to his knees and tried to ignore the pain from the rocky ground. He was about to feel even worse pain in a moment. Hickey stepped forward, pulling his knife from the coat pocket. It glittered and teased him in the sunlight and now the panic was beginning to set it. He squeezed his eyes close. He felt Manson’s arms on his shoulders, and soon enough Hickey’s hand pinching his left ear upwards and the cool press of a knife.

“A quick, confident stroke, Mr. Hickey.” Harry choked out. “Lessens the bleeding and makes it easier for you.”

“I know how to use a knife, Henry.” He practically hissed his named and the knife cut through swiftly through the upper portion of his ear.

The pain was like nothing else he had experienced before. It was sharp and lingered terribly. He was sure he cried out and his natural reaction was grab at the maimed ear the second he could. Blood dripped through his finger tips, sticky and heavy. He could have thrown up if there was something in his stomach. His ears were ringing which disoriented him further.

The pain made it hard to focus and next thing he knew, he was being led to a tent. His tent. In there, he was sat onto a crate, someone grabbed at bandaging and another left. Gentle hands touching his face, examining his ear. All he could do was try to breath and not faint.

He could feel a damp cloth touch his ear and it stung. He whimpered and saw how the edge of his vision creep with black. The hands eventually placed some cotton to his ear and wrapped his face with the rest of the bandaging.

The person knelt to his level and Harry saw for the first time who it was. George Hodgson.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I didn’t want him to cut something precious from you. I’m sorry.”

He stood back up to his full height and continued to wrap the bandaging. Someone came back into the tent, but he couldn’t see who. Hodgson spoke to him.

“See about Mr. Gibson’s body being removed. Dr. Goodsir is in no shape to do anything now.”

“Of course.” He recognised that voice. William Pilkington.

“There’s bit of laudanum,” Harry finally spoke, his voice cracking slightly. “In the chest there. And a pitcher of water.”

Hodgson moved from him to do what Harry asked, he watched him prepare the drink, making sure that he did not place too many drops into the water.

When it was handed to him, he drank deeply. The rest seemed to fade into each other, Manson entering the tent to take the body, Hodgson eventually being ordered to leave, but not before he gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze, and Pilkington entering one last time to check in on him.

He didn’t remember when he climbed into bed, though he could acutely remember the pain he felt as he rested his head on the pillow.

He supposed he deserved this pain for his idiocy.

-

The days dragged on. Harry was not confronted again about cutting in Gibson, though he was sure it would happen again. He stayed in his tent as he refused to leave except to grab food when the bell rang, though the odd visit from Hodgson, Pilkington and sometimes Armitage made it more bearable. He was explained they were taking turned making sure he wasn't in some stage of dying.

How comforting.

He lost track of how many days had passed when it all went down, but it was the day that he finally took off his bandaging. With one of his anatomical saws, he was able to check his reflection and he saw that the ear was healing well. Hickey really only took of the tip, thank god, but it was still jarring to see he lost so much.

What dragged him out of the tent on that day was the sound of a commotion outside. Someone yelled and there was the sound of someone running past his tent. His minded flashed to the creature, here to kill them all, so he left the tent, wobbling a little to see what had happened.

He stepped only briefly, the wind on his skin feeling good. What he saw felt like a punch to his stomach.

There, bloodied next to Hickey was their captain. Crozier saw him, there eyes met, and Harry wanted to call out. Fear was in him though, fear of what might happen to the both of them. So, he stepped back into the tent.

In the tent again, something was a lit in him. The Captain was alive. This led his brain to make connections. If he was alright, then surely the rest of the men were alright. Would they be making their way down? Was Silna with them? How was she? Was she okay? Did she miss him? Would he see her again?

He knew that they could live without a doctor. The men wouldn’t risk lives to save one lousy doctor. But they would for their Captain.

This felt like salvation and he took back everything he thought before. He wanted to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this was the plan from the beginning, Dan Simmons is a bitch but I always loved the idea of Harry telling Hickey straight up no and standing by it. The one good thing Dan Simmons did right.
> 
> Next chapter, a finale.


	11. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m hungry and I want to live.” Hodgson’s voice echoed back in his head. Why that story had stuck with him, he didn’t know, but he wanted to live too. And these men were going to eat.

_“Dr. Goodsir?” Hodgson’s voice carried into the tent. His face was sore, and he felt no reason to call back out. He was humiliated.  In the moment he had felt so strong, so confident. Now though, with the throbbing pain and hindsight, getting a bit of his ear cut off wasn’t his smartest move._

_So, no he had no energy to turn over and look to Hodgson or pretend he was awake. All that energy was to go towards feeling sorry for himself._

_He could hear Hodgson step forward into the tent, carefully. “Dr. Goodsir?” He asked one more time before stepping forward again. He could hear him sit down onto something._

_“One summer, when I was seven my parents sent me to live with two aunts, In Oxfordshire.” Hodgson began._

_Harry listened as the Lieutenant told his story. How his aunts were Papists and how he had been told to be disgusted by their religion. How he had been graced to step into a Papist church and learn that the mass was a beautiful thing and how happy he had been to take the body and blood of Christ into him. He spoke of how it made him feel clean and whole; forgiven for every poor, weak or selfish thing within him._

_He said how he had pretended to be ill the next Sunday for reasons he did not know to get out of mass. And that he had never stepped in a Papist church again._

_“But, tonight,” He said so softly. “When I close my eyes I’m there.”_

_He had felt his eyes going wet hearing this story for reasons he didn’t understand. He pitied Hodgson. He pitied the poor man and he could not find it in his soul to reproach him. Harry found himself forgiving him for banding with Hickey, for anything that Hodgson could have done wrong._

_“If I were a braver man.” His voice grew stronger then. “I’d kill Mr. Hickey, though it’d mean my death too. But I’m hungry. I’m hungry and I want to live.”_

_Hodgson had left the tent then, and he may have not meant it, but it had planted something in Harry’s mind._

_He could empathise with wanting to live._

-

He had predicted this would happen. It was the obvious thing to happen. Yet, Harry was still shocked to see Captain Crozier enter the tent, with Armitage as escort.

“Hickey wants you to take care of him,” Armitage spoke low, his accent thick. “You’re well enough to, Doctor?”

Harry nodded. “What happened?”

“Took a tumble.”

“I see. Well, you can leave him with me. I’ll clean up the wounds and make sure there isn’t anything deeper. You’re free to go.”

Armitage nodded, and gave Crozier a push forward. And then they were alone. He got to work quickly, pulling out a box from the captain to sit on, and pulling out a bowl and rag.

“Please sit,” Harry gestured to the box before turning back to his table to pour the jug of water into the bowl. He then turned to him with the rag wetted. “What happened? Actually.”

Crozier winched as he tried to clean away the cuts. There were signs of scurvy on the man; the skin was tender and easy to bleed, so he was careful in how he dabbed about. “Golding, our ships boy from Terror was one of them. He led us into an ambush.” He said softly.

Harry nodded, not stopping in his work. “Yes, I have seen him at this camp before. Suppose we are all fools when it comes to their little tricks.”

Crozier gave a small laugh at that. “Little was spared.”

Harry turned away to then to rinse out the cloth, and Crozier continued. “I know Lieutenant Little’s nature.” He winced again when Harry pressed to rag to his face, but this did not stop him. “He’ll be here by day’s end with a dozen armed men. We need to be ready.”

As much as his nature called out to hope along with the Captain, but the cynical part of him was unsure. He was more focused on cleaning though. With how delicately he was trying to wash the skin without causing more bleeding, he was barely washing away the blood. He bit his tongue in frustration.

“I counted eleven men total,” Crozier said, trying to look Harry in the eyes. “What about arms? Who carries them?”

Harry thought back, remembering an incident. “Tozer, Manson… Armitage… uh Pilkington… Gibs- no no. Gibson’s gone as well.” The image of the man flashed before his eyes, and he felt himself shake. “I-I think Des Voeux has his gun now.”

“Gone? You mean he ran off?”

If only.

Harry finally looked Crozier in the eyes, the least he owed. “Dead, sir. And fit to be consumed.”

Something in his face shifted, as though he could not believe this. Harry wished he had been so ignorant to what was going on. “He was murdered by Hickey when he was no longer able to haul. I was approached… about 5 days ago about butchering his corpse to be made into a meal.”

“Did you refuse?”

“I did. And paid for it.”

Crozier looked to him, eyes brows furrowed. He took the opportunity to put down the rag finally and move his hair away from his ear. The noise the captain made was almost like he was strangled.

“Jesus Christ,” He swore softly. “Tell me that’s all he’s done.”

Harry nodded. “Hickey is the only mastermind here. These men are afraid.”

“And you counted only five guns. Are you certain?”

He moved to then examine closer the damage to the skin and was pleased to see that the captain didn’t seem to hurt more than to a superficial level. “We thought the creature was at the ridge to our north. Three days ago. I was in no shape, but Hickey order every man out to face it and I counted five.”

“Well done,” Crozier whispered patting his arm before holding onto it with both hands. “Well done!”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“If the chance to run comes, and we are not together, go southeast. Yes?” Crozier said. Harry nodded again.

“I must ask, Captain, and I beg you to be honest. Did the Inuit make it to you?”

The smile that was given in reply said all. “We did. We met with them and they were quick to criticize how we tried to survive. They are good guides, though I fear some of us are too far gone to make it to the main land.”

Harry had to repress a laugh then. “I can promise you, we are not far. I stood upon it, and vegetation is greater to our south. There is more moss, we don’t know why lemons and other vegetables are able to ward off scurvy, but there must be a connection. We might have our hands on something to reverse the effects, though I fear by this point some symptoms cannot be changed.”

Crozier nodded. “And the poisoning from our food.”

He had nearly forgotten about this. “I do not know. Lead poisoning isn’t exactly well researched. When we had left from England, there was a study on it, and the symptoms one can find with it, but nothing else.” Harry looked down to his hands. “I feel a fool for not seeing it earlier. Burton’s lines are sure sign of lead poisoning. I even met Dr. Burton once.”

“Beating yourself up on something you cannot change will not help the situation.” He looked back to the captain at those words. “You’ve done all of us a great service. Truly.”

He nodded, but the look on the man’s face said otherwise. “Our men. How are they?”

Crozier bit his lip, sadness washing over him. “Fitzjames… he passed. We don’t know what killed him, but his final days were hard. We are down to about twenty men.”

So many gone. He shook at the thought. His heart seemed to throb at the though of James Fitzjames dead. He had enjoyed the man’s company and thought that there was no better man fit to command with the exception of Crozier. He took a moment, and let the reality of the loss to sink in. The odds were not tipped in their favour. “Do you count the men here?”

“If they come with us. I am more than willing to count 31 men, minus Hickey of course.”

He could hear approaching footsteps. They were heavy, and Harry knew his time was up. “Captain, one more question. Is… Silence. Is Silence alright?”

He nodded. “More than alright. Once she learned you had been tricked, she was on a war path. She has taken over yours and Bridgens job of caring for the men. Makes you realise how much more capable she is beyond what she shows. You got her to speak again?”

“She did that more of her own accord, but she hates it.”

“Well,” Crozier said with a laugh. “She yelled at us to come and get you. I knew you’d be fine though, Hickey is not fool enough to harm a doctor.” He sighed, his mouth going tight. “Though I fear I was wrong.”

“I appreciate you not coming for me. I prayed for it. Can’t have lives on my head. You do not know the joy that fills my heart knowing Sil-”

It was then Manson peaked his head into the tent. He looked to Harry and then to Crozier, a smile appearing on his face. “Your colours better now.”

Crozier sat up straight, though he did not return the smile. “Thank you, Manson.”

“Sorry. Mr. Hickey says I’m not to call you captain any more.” Manson looked quickly to Harry again. “I’m to take you to him now.”

“That’s alright Magnus. You’re a good boy, I know.” He winced and let out a soft moan as he got up. “It’s a test, isn’t it? Of our mettle.”

At those words, Manson ducked out and Harry took the chance. It had been on his mind for days. In fact, he had acted on this thought once he had been strong enough to do so. “Captain, wait.” He whispered.

Crozier turned to him, curious expression on his face. Harry quickly moved to grab his journal and opened the cover. In it was paper he had ripped out and wrote on.

“If I do not survive-“

“You will.”

Harry ignore this. “-and if you make it back to Britain. I beg you to take Silence with you. And bring her to Scotland. The addresses of my father, and my brothers should be on contact lists kept by the Admiralty. Get Silence to my family and give them this.”

He held out the folded paper which Crozier took daintily. He looked it over.

“It’s a letter. Explaining everything. They’ll take her in for sure and care for her. If I do not live, make sure Silna does.” Harry felt almost close to crying and it did not hit him that he had just revealed her name. “Captain, she means more to me than my own life. Honour my request, please, I beg.”

Crozier nodded silently and slipped the paper into one of his pockets. “You needn’t worry, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you both make it to Scotland alive and well.”

Pilkington was next to poke his head into the tent. Harry looked to him and gave a small smile. “Sorry. I was only telling the Captain to be careful with his head. He may be concussed.”

“Then I shall make sure he get’s to Hickey just fine. Cap- Mr. Crozier, if you will.”

And then Harry was alone.

He listened to the crunching footsteps as they led away from the tent, and when he was sure no one else would come poking in, he let out a soft sob.

Silna was alright. Of course, she was alright, but to hear confirmation was a blessing. He feared what would come next, but what he feared would not ruin Silna now. The letter had been written quickly, and he had explained who she was and what might have happen to him. It explained that if he had been lucky enough to live, he’d marry her and make a life with her. That them reading the letter meant that this did not come true, but they must still care for her as though she was his widow. He was more than certain John would at least take this to heart, and Jane as well.

It wasn’t fail-safe, but it gave him comfort.

All he had to do now was survive. That some how seemed the hardest part. What came next? Did they run? When would they run? How could they guarantee they wouldn’t get shot when they did so? His questions got no answers, so he sat on his bed and opened his journal.

Since he had been humiliated (there was no other word for the stinging his ear gave him) he had taken to writing again. His hand cramped, and his vision would blur, but he wrote in his journal with the pencil that was getting close to being a stub about everything that happened. He was dedicated and scared. His father had asked him to keep a journal, and Archie had asked for a story.

So, he wrote, and that’s what he was doing when he got an unwanted visitor. Again.

Harry looked up to see Tozer step into the tent, his movements mechanical, but his face said wary. Those canvas bags in his hands.

“What is it?” He asked, closing the journal with the pencil still in it for a bookmark. “An injury?”

“Hickey wants to know if you’re going to cause trouble this time?” Tozer gave a sigh. “And if there’s other body parts your willing to lose?”

Shit. There it was. The thing he had been hoping wouldn’t be asked.

“Gibson’s body has had some time to decay.”

“Meats in butcher shops sit there for days.”

“And that’s how you see him? A piece of meat? Not a man who once lived, who loved and was-“

Tozer looked as though he didn’t want to be having this conversation. He didn’t snap when he interrupted Harry, but rather sounded weary. “Just do it.”

He didn’t want to. He wasn’t a coward, he’d refuse a thousand times over. Take toes, fingers, his nose, hell, even slice off an arm. What was it that his Aunt Ann said once? He had the good nature of a Goodsir, but the stubbornness of a Taylor? Wasn’t it John Gardiner who once said he was too smart for his own good? Or was it Edward Forbes who said that?

Either way, if nothing was at stake, he’d of spat out for Tozer to go to hell. He did have things at stake. Live for Silna, if nothing else. As much as he loved home, friends and family, he could live without them. She, however, he would forsake everything for her. He’d give up all his morals if it meant he could stay with her.

“Fine.”

Tozer’s looked confused for a second, as though he hadn’t believed Harry had said those words. He nodded, and back out of the tent without a word but not before placing the bags on the table. So, Harry got up and got to work setting up the table and pulling out the anatomical tools.

The entire time he prepped, he could hear a voice in the back of his mind telling him nothing was worth this.

“I can have my principles back when they won’t get me killed.” He whispered to nothing, but it didn’t quell the voice in the back of his mind. It screamed at him, telling him how dare he.

But he was tired. He had plenty of fight left, but he couldn’t fight this. Not today.

The body was brought in by Manson like before. It was placed onto the table and Harry felt numb.

“Give me forty minutes.” He said to the man.

And he got to work. Pulling off clothes was hard with the _rigor mortis_ set in like it was, but he tried his hardest to pull of the gloves. He wasn’t enjoying this at all. Not that he had ever enjoy cutting into dead bodies. He had nearly cried at the idea of cutting into John Hartnell when it was asked of him back in January of 1846. He had been so nervous he had begun the Y incision from the hips rather than the clavicle. He had no joy in cutting into some he had known, and that was a comfort he got back in Edinburgh, the cadavers were just that. Bodies, not people with lives. Nothing else.

 Gibson though had a name, and Harry had known him. And he had died in his arms. He was finding it hard to disconnect himself, even in undressing him.

It was when he opened the shirt to begin to take it off, that he was finally disconnected. On a piece of twine wrapped around his neck, was a ring. It was inlaid with three small gems.

“T-they’re glass.” A memory rose up. A young man in bed dying. “But the ring is plate. It won’t fetch much, but my sister should have it.” His voice wavered as he pulled at the ring. “It’s a nasty jar, but I can’t get it off.”

Harry then had tried to tell the boy he could get something to help it off, but he didn’t want that.

“When you’re sure I’m gone.” David Young had said. That was his name. David Young. “Find a way.”

The blow he had felt, when he realised, he had forgotten the ring and it had been buried with the poor boy was tremendous. He had been wracked with guilt for a good week afterwards, but it had slipped from his memory.

And now here it was.

He took one of the knives off of the table and cut the twine, taking the thing into his hands properly. Moving it about, he could see that it was, in fact, the very ring that he thought had been lost. He didn’t question what were the chances, or how one could be so lucky, but Harry felt something close to joy rise up in him.

He held it close to his chest and tried not to cry. Then he looked back to the body.

How did Gibson get the ring? The only thought was Hickey. Harry could barely remember which men were sent out to bury Young when the time came, though he did remember the speech Sir John had given that day. What a useless speech it was, and he’d happily trade that memory to know if Hickey had been among those to bury Young. It’s the only way he could have gotten hold of the ring. The thought of Young’s body being desecrated after death and being laid to his grave made his stomach roll.

“I’m hungry and I want to live.” Hodgson’s voice echoed back in his head. Why that story had stuck with him, he didn’t know, but he wanted to live too. And these men were going to eat.

The thought that crossed his mind was impulsive at best. He had once done physician work with his father, taking care of simple people who had simple problems. He remembered a little girl who had eaten kernels of corn that had been covered in arsenic, as that’s what the family had used to keep away the rats. She hadn’t known, and it hadn’t been enough to kill her, but it had been enough to slow her down. Vomiting had been the worst of her symptoms.

That could work.

He stripped the rest of the body down, and went to his medical chest, pulling out every cure he had that he knew could be lethal and poured it into a bowl. Then, he grabbed a rag.

-

He tried to not think that pieces of a man were in the bags. It would be easier on him to think of them as just pieces of flesh. How was this any different than the caribou he had taken down with Silna? He had stripped it of its skin and butchered its flesh, so they could eat.

This was different though. So different.

As he walked out, several of the men noticed him. Des Voeux had actually stood up at the sight of him. As always, the congregated around the bench, including Hickey. He made no motion to show he had notice him.

Harry took in his surroundings, as he dropped the bags forward. He would not make this easy, they could pick up the bags themselves, and deal with the meat as they please.

From his quick survey, he did not see the Captain among them, but he hadn’t expected to see him. No, instead he took a good look at the men. With the exception of a few, they all looked worn thin, and even sickly. He was sure if he could see their gums, the Burtonian lines with be dark and showing the sure signs of scurvy. None of them would refuse a meal that may cure them of debility and wasn’t poisoned.

Little would they know. They weren’t going to die after what he did, if the cures had been drank and absorbed into the flesh and fat it could do considerable damage. Instead it had been washed onto ever surface of the body and then some onto the open meat after he had finished cutting.

Inconveniencing these men long enough to make sure he could escape with a few others would be well worth what he had done.

“Mr. Goodsir, if you will.” Hickey’s voice called out, just as Harry was walking away. He stopped in his tracks and sighed heavily. How much he wishes he could get away with ignoring this rat. He turned around instead, making no efforts to hide his expression.

“Sit with us.” Hickey motioned to the table. “Mr. Diggle take the meat and begin to prepare it. Pilkington, grab the Captain.”

Harry stood still while the other men got up to do what they were asked. He stared down Hickey, feeling nothing but the purest contempt he had ever felt in his life. A scary part of him wanted to see Hickey suffer just as Gibson was made to. After all this heartache, and death some how the most vile thing to ever grace his eyes managed to not only live, but thrive. No man so vicious should ever be allowed something like this.

A shame that it is always the best men to die first.

Hickey must have felt what was in that stare as a small smile flittered across his face. Golding, the ship’s boy, caught eye of this and looked nervously to Harry. Mr. Diggle began with cooking the meat.

“I’m not hungry.” Harry lied after a moment. “And I’ve never been fond of red meats.”

Hickey’s expression didn’t change at that. “You must be hungry?”

“Goldner’s tins have kept me well fed, thank you. I’ll stick to them.”

There was a quick flash of something in Hickey’s eyes, but that was it.  They seemed to stare each other down forever when the Captain was brought out. Harry turned to look at him; he looked better, though there was still a gait to his walk that worried him.

Then, the smell of cooking flesh hit their noses quick.

“My nose and my stomach, they don’t know horrible from supper.” He could remember Collins telling him. The poor man was a mess, obviously haunted by Carnivale, but in a different sense then what Harry would come to know. He liked the man, found his company wonderful, and it had hurt him to see the man so devastated by his reaction to smelling his friends cooking.

Harry hadn’t gotten it then, but he got it now. Carnivale had smelled of charcoal and sulphuric acid to him. Gibson smelled of pork. His stomach twisted painfully, and he was suddenly so aware of how starved he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry as the guilt hit him in a wave. He finally got it, and all the pity to Collins was felt. He hoped he was one of the twenty to live, so he could hug the man and tell him he understood.

Harry felt sick; his head was spinning so fast he felt nearly ready to vomit. He couldn’t watch this, knowing full well that he had allowed this to happen. These men were going to eat and poison themselves on his handiwork, and he was too much a coward to watch.

“I’d rather starve.” Harry choked out. He turned to look to the Captain and began his walk back to the tent. Crozier locked eyes with him, his stare asking for something; perhaps if he was well or why did he do this. Harry took a risk and gave a small shake of his head as he passed by. The Captain once got his little message back so many months ago, and he hoped he got it again.

This time the need was more dire.

As he got near the mouth of the tent and the sight of the feast was out of line of view, he was greeted by Hodgson. He nearly jumped at this; surprised that he had not noticed the man hadn't been among those gathered.

“Dr. Goodsir,” Hodgson greeted softly.

He liked this man, who despite his faults was a good man, and Harry didn’t want to see him die.

“Whatever you do don’t eat it.” He said out of the corner of his mouth, before going into the tent. He didn’t move forward anymore once in, and instead looked about the space, taking in the scene before him. He could hear Hodgson’s footsteps go towards the table, but he didn’t think on it at all. His thought process had completely stopped, and his body ached for routine.

One of the first lessons back at Edinburgh had been the care of instruments and working space. Cleanliness is Godliness or, so he remembered. He did not think as he sorted the tools back into their proper place, but not before wiping them down once more. The bowl that he had poured the cures into was quickly dumped and wiped. Within a half hour, the space was cleaned and all signs of the sin he had committed were gone. The guilt was still there. As he had done his duty, he overheard the men all talking about there. Hickey’s voice carried the most and there had been some sounds of a commotion.

His stomach twisted when he heard the loud sound of someone being hit. Even with the wind he could hear it.

For a while there was nothing, and he was frozen to place. He could hear more commotion, but didn't dare step out to investigate. He then heard footsteps approaching the tent. He half expected to be dragged out of the tent, his trickery found. Instead he was greeted by Edmund Hoar, a man he rarely had ever interacted with here in the camp.

“Set your things aside, Mr. Goodsir.” He said quickly. “Hickey is having us haul.”

He didn’t even have a chance to be confused, before Hoar hissed at him to “move quickly”. So, moved he did. He had first reached to grab his coat, but Hoar who hadn’t move spoke up. “No time for that! Just come.”

He wanted to ask questions, but was given no chance to. Instead, he followed Hoar, his head beginning to spin again and saw what had transpired. The boat was being set up, but nothing was being put in it. Instead, a chain was set up where the harness should have gone. He looked about confused.

Then he saw an unconscious Tozer on the ground being hooked up to the chain. There was Crozier as well, set up to it. How quickly everything had dissolved to this horror and all the men seemed in some state of confusion too. Harry was pushed forward some more by Hoar, and that was when some of the attention was drawn to him.

“What are we doing with the doctor?” Des Voeux asked, turning to Hickey. “Have him haul as well?”

Hickey took a look over him and Harry felt bile rise in his throat.

“No. He’d only slow us down. Have Hodgson hooked up instead. He has more strength.”

In less time than it took him to clean up, they were off; far from the camp and over the hill that loomed over the camp. Tozer had been woken up by a hard slap to the face, and had been quick to yell and complain, but a silent ear was all he got. Every so often he’d turn to glare at Hickey who had made his perch on the boat.

He was utterly confused as to what was going on but was too afraid to ask. This was the case with everyone, who just did as they were commanded. Just because he was not put to chain did not mean he did not have no work to do. The men not doing the hauling held onto the sides of the boat and held push it forward. They went at a snail’s pace, and the work was hard. Unlike with hauling before, it was also unrewarding as well. Hauling seemed more terrible when you had no idea where you were going. Harry felt his muscles seize every so often, which became more painful each time.

They hauled on for a long while, the only thing breaking the silence was Hickey yelling out for them to haul faster or Tozer complaining between breath.

Eventually, with dusk upon them, Hickey cried out for them to halt. Men immediately teared away from the boat, and Harry was no different. He slumped against it, breathing heavily. He felt the muscles in his leg twitch, which did not help with sensation of burning.

“Fire a shot, Private Pilkington.” Hickey commanded. “Do it now.”

Pilkington followed command; stepping forward only a bit, he lifted his gun into the air and let out a shot which seemed to echo out across the valley. They were on a cliff of some sort, the view of King William Island before them.

“Here Terror.” Hickey sang out, his tone mocking. “Where was he last seen?”

“South.” Armitage replied. “Two miles. Staggering off a weak left side.”

So, this was the plan. It wasn’t hard to understand, and Harry felt a healthy amount of fear grab hold of him. Hickey wanted to lure out the Tuunbaq. He had thought him a fool before, and called him that too, but this was a new level. He could have never predicted such an idiotic plan that would mean certain death. There was no fear at first realisation; he looked to Thompson who had been hauling ahead of him and gave him a look of disgust which was returned with a shrug. He seemed shaky.

He wanted to curse them all out for ever trusting Hickey, but there was no time between his laboured breaths. He looked to Crozier instead but got no glance back.

Before Hickey could reply, Tozer was at it again.

“Let me off this chain!” He shouted out to Hickey, ripping at said chain. Hickey seemed to ignore him once more, which agitated the Marine even further.

“He is sick then, the creature.” Crozier spoke out. Tozer cried out again, but it was easily ignored by the next words. “He’s sick from what he eats, Mr. Hickey.”

It was then that Crozier glanced to Harry, and that Harry realised what was happening to the men. A few were coughing, more so than before, and others looking pale and clammy. He hadn't seen this before, as he had been to preoccupied in his own labour, but the signs were there.

It had worked. And he was feeling no pride, no triumph. Only something gut-wrenching and terrible.

Hodgson then spoke up himself as he sat on the ground, but in French. Harry had never learned the language, but he picked up on the word _tu manges_ , something he knew to be ‘you eat’.

“And in English, Mr. Hodgson.” Said Hickey.

“Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.” The words were even paced, and Harry felt a swell of pride for the Lieutenant. Hickey was quick to pick up on the slight.

“I detect a double meaning there.” Harry looked up quick enough to see the sharp smile on Hickey’s face, before his expression turned serious. “If we don’t meet the creature soon,” He said with a raised voice. “We set up a signal fire on this hill. He may not have his senses. He may need help finding us.”

“Have we come here to give it a royal death, then?” Armitage spoke up once more.

“If it’s ill,” Des Voeux added in. “Then we should put every shot we have we have into it’s head and butcher it. Now, while it’s weak.”

“I have a different plan.” Hickey said softly. The men looked about at each other, confused by this answer.

“Well, perhaps it time you told us what that plan is.” Tozer voice sounded hoarse from all the yelling he had done, but the words could not have raised more appeal. Harry saw as Mr. Crispe beside him nodded, and a few other men look to Hickey, tired but almost as agitated as Tozer was.

“That creature is everything we need.” Pilkington said stepping forward. “Meat and fur. We can make at least ten greatcoats out of it. And make it back to London, full bricks!”

Hickey responded fast, not giving the men a chance to murmur in agreement. “You think you're going back? No.”

“Where else are we hoping to get?” Des Voeux asked, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re a bigger fool than Hickey. Mr. Des Voeux. You've been tricked.” Was all that Harry said. He wished he could have seen Des Voeux’s face at that, knowing full well the man hated him already.

“I can’t go back.” Hickey spoke up after a moment, his voice having a slight panic to it. Strange and concerning. Before Hickey could elaborate, Manson threw up behind him and Harry and Crispe jumped out of the way. This did not seem to faze Hickey as he continued on, that panic gone and now calm and even.

“A man named Cornelius Hickey told me this expedition was a year in the Polar Sea-”

Realisation hit hard, but it seemed impossible to believe. Harry looked to Crozier again, who seemed to be reeling from these words as well.

“- and then out the other side. He told me the ship’s plan was to stop at the Sandwich Islands and the crew was going to dry out in the sun.” Something seemed off about this man now; Harry felt ill even calling him Hickey anymore, though he didn't know what else to call him. The enemy he once knew was now an unknown and it struck him with uneasiness and fear he hadn't had before. This oddness only seemed to continue as he spoke. “That’s the other side of the world I thought. A year’s nothing. So I dabbed him, and left him in Regent’s Canal.”

Harry kept a steady eye on Crozier and Hodgson who were before him, and he watched as resignation fell over the Lieutenant and the Captain laid back on the rocks. He could sympathise with that, if he was not in so much shock, he’d lie down himself. But instead he kept himself where he stood, looking out to the scene before him, listening in disbelief.

“And here I am instead.”

There was a pause. “You could have just joined up.” Crozier replied, his voice lethargic. He almost felt a bubble of laughter escape from him. Honestly, that seemed easier than killing a man and taking his identity. He felt a stab of pity for the real Cornelius Hickey and took back any ill thoughts towards the name.

“I was going to show you my heels when we got to those islands, you know.” He continued on, as though he had not heard the Captain. “I was going to hook it and start a new. I’ve seen the drawings in the weeklies. O’ahu. Maui. That sounded nice.”

Hearing the way Hickey roll over those foreign words reminded him a perverted version of Robert doing the same with New Zealand cities. How badly Robert wanted to go abroad, and the measures he took to achieve the dream. He felt his heart ache for a second at the thought of his brother but was not drawn out of the moment. He looked up to Hickey and saw a dream like smile on his face, and he didn’t know how exactly to feel anymore.

That smile was gone quickly though. “No one told me I’d be freezing to death three bloody years instead, did they?” The words were basically spat out. “I learned what I needed to. Bugger London. I’m going forward. Only forward. Call it with me now boys. Come on, together!”

He sang out, the tune one he recognised as that hymn written by William E. Hickson. The alternate version to God Save Our Queen.

“Come on,” He yelled out when no one joined in. “This has to carry men! Come on!”

As Hickey yelled that out, Harry watched the Captain closely, and saw what he was looking at. The keys. They were on Armitage.

Hickey started again, urging the men to sing along, which they did so feebly, but Harry was not interested. He saw the Captain look to Hodgson and then those eyes were on him. Crozier moved his chained wrist a little, and he understood clearly what needed to be done. Some how subdue Armitage, get the keys, unchain and run. But how?

“We’re here!” Hickey yelled out again, making Harry jump. “Bugger Victoria! We’re here! Bugger Nelson! Bugger Jesus! Bugger Joseph and Mary! Bugger the Archbishop of Canterbury!” There was something frantic to his tone, that oddness back.  He ranted on, but Harry refused to listen as he listed of whatever else. His mind whirled forward trying to think of ways to get the keys. He was the only one unchained. This was falling to him. Panic rose up in him, knocking the breath out of him.

Before he could even really come up with anything or got a hold on his panic, Pilkington frantically cried out.

“It’s here! It’s here!”

The thought of Tuunbaq upon them was enough to halt all thought and fear. He felt nothing but a rush that drove away the soreness in his muscles. He heard Hickey ask Magnus for the looking glass, but Harry did not focus on that. He moved forward instead to help Hodgson back up onto his feet.

“Got anything.” He whispered to the Lieutenant. All he got in return was a hurried shake. “Well damn.”

The men with guns were quick to get into position. Even without the looking glass, Harry could see the small dot in the distance growing larger and larger.

“Are we going to kill it or not?” Des Voeux cried out.

“Let it come, Mr. Des Voeux.” Hickey’s voice had almost returned to it’s usual cantor, though excitement could be heard. “Open yourself to courage.”

“Strong words from a murderous rat.” Harry hissed out only loud enough for Hodgson to hear. He stepped forward some more and grabbed onto his chained wrist.

“What if we’re not the heroes of this story-” Hickey said, but Crozier spoke over him to the men close by.

“It will go after those who are running, at first-“

“- Every story we’ve been told about the holy throne of Britain has a shine on it doesn’t it-“

Hodgson was shaking.

“Courage now, Lt. Hodgson-“ Harry whispered to him.

“- But I bet you never saw in Shoreditch the breath of a god in the air! Never met a man with his soul ate out. There are holy things before us.”

“Magnus,” Tozer called out. “Mr. Des Voeux, come forward to the others. Stagger your position on a line. When it comes forward over the top, it’s gonna have it’s head low, so anticipate that with your aim.”

Magnus cried out in pain then, falling to his knees. Hickey was still unfazed by all of this and continued on his nonsensical rant.

“Our Empire is not the only Empire.” He kept on, his pace feverish. We’ve seen that now.”

“- If you run, you’ll die!” Tozer cried out above Hickey. Harry turned around to see the scared expressions on Des Voeux and Hoar’s face. He had pity for them, and he too was aware of how scared he was. “If you miss, we’ll die.”

“Tommy!” Tozer turned around then to look to Armitage. “Give me your gun! I’m the best shot here!”

Armitage seemed to freeze and from behind him, Harry could hear someone run off, but he didn’t turn to see in time before Hickey called out to the deserter. “There’s nothing that way, Mr. Hoar!”

Armitage then raised his gun, and there was a fear there that he’d shoot, but Harry was unsure at who. And he’d never find out. A shot rang out, and Armitage hit the ground hard.

“Sorry Tom.” Magnus spoke. Pilkington then cried out again.

“It’s before me!”

“Hold Private.” Was the last Harry Goodsir heard from this fake Cornelius Hickey before the Tuunbaq topped the ridge.

Without words, Crozier yanked the chain forward and they all followed him in time. Harry did not see it happen, but he heard Pilkington cry out in pain, and the unnatural noises the Tuunbaq made before the crunching of bones could be heard. He had no time to react to this death.

“Fall back. Fall back!” Crozier commanded quickly, and they listened. The men on the chain fell back and Harry knew what he had to do in an instant. He ran forward to the body of Mr. Armitage and was quick to rip the keys away from him. He could hear the Captain to yell out to Mr. Diggle not to run and it sent the reminder through him what could happen. Don’t move, don’t die.

In his fear, he fumbled with the keys, but had them in hand, free from the body of Armitage. He saw Crozier, Tozer, Goldner and Hodgson against the boat, almost in safety and Harry felt very vulnerable. He could not place where the Tuunbaq was, and with the rush of adrenaline in him, he was unable to focus.

His instinct screamed for him not to move from this spot, so he did the next best thing that came to mind.

With all the strength he had within him, he threw the keys to Hodgson, who caught and dropped him. With that being satisfactory enough for Harry, he looked about quickly, trying to place where the creature was.

His mind wasn’t working and for a moment he froze, staring out to the wide valley.

“Doctor Goodsir!!” A voice yelled out, frantic, and unidentifiable. Harry turned to see where the voice had come from and was instead greeted by a mass of white and muscle. He realised in a fraction of a second what he was greeted by; what he saw before him was Tuunbaq. The God Who Walks Like a Man. Grotesque and too human. It raised one claw up high. And then it swiped down.

And all Harry saw was a flash of red, then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of part 1. Thank you everyone who has supported me along the way! This is officially the longest thing I've ever written and would it be conceded to say I'm stupid proud of myself?
> 
> This is now a part of a series, part 2 being _From Fresh Waters_ so please give that read if you'd like!


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